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S. G. and E. L. ELBERT 

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Life of Captain Cook, - - - - 

Anecdotes of the Horse, - - - 

William of Orange and the Netherlands, 
Passion and Principle, . - - 

Life- Assurance : a Familiar Dialogue, - 
Excursion to the Oregon, - - - 

Mrs Macclarty. Scenes from the '* Cottagers of 

Glenburnie," . . - - 

The Little Captive King, - - - 

Children of the Yf ilds — 

Peter the Wild Eoy, . - - 

Mademoiselle Leblanc, 

Victor, the Savage of Aveyron, 

Casper Hauser, . - - 

Select Poems on Love for Flowers, 
Life of Flora Macdonald, 
Cleanliness — Bathing — Ventilation, 
Anecdotes of the Deaf, Dumb, and Blind, 
Sir Stamford Saffles and the Spice Islands, 
The Sister of Rembrandt, 

Anecdotes of the Cat, . - - 

It's Only a Drop. By Mrs S. C. Hall, 
Toussaint L'Ouverture and the Republic of Hayti, 
Curiosities of Vegetation, - - - 

The Ancient Mariner, and other Poebis, by Coleridge, 
































LOVE of maritime enterj)rise is one of those 
well-known characteristics ' of British youth, 
which have led to innumerable instances of dar- 
ing* intrepidity on the seas around our coasts, 
as well as the most distant parts of the ocean. 
This quality of mind, to which Britain owes so 
much of her supremacy in the scale of nations, 
has been seldom more strikingly manifested than 
in the case of Captain Cook, a man who, from the humblest 
rank in life, and after encountering the difficulties which usually 
lie in the path of a sailor, rose, by dint of good behaviour, intelli- 
gence, and the energy of his character, to the highest honours 
of his profession. As an inspiring page in general biography, 
we offer a sketch of the life of this distinguished individual. 
James Cook was born in a mud hut at Marton, in the north 
No, 40. 1 


riding" of Yorkshire, 27tli October 1728. His father was an 
agricultural servant, who, with his wife, bore a most unexception- 
able character for honesty and industry. The village school- 
mistress taught the boy to read ; but at eight years of age his 
father, through his good conduct, was appointed to be bailiif of 
a farm near Great Ayton, belonging to Thomas Skottowe, Esq., 
who at his own expense put James to a day-school in that town, 
where he was taught writing and the first rules in arithmetic. 
The predilection of the lad inclined him for the sea ; but as 
this stood contrary to the wishes of his parents, he was soon 
after his twelfth year apprenticed to William Sanderson, a gene- 
ral dealer in haberdashery, grocery, hardware, &;c. at Staith, 
upon the coast, about ten miles north of Whitby. The youth^s 
mind, however, continued more occupied upon maritime affairs 
than anything else, and though he faithfully discharged his duty 
to his master, he longed to be at sea. An opportunity occurred 
to favour his desires. Mr Sanderson cancelled his indentures, 
and left him to pursue his inclinations. Thus freed, he boimd 
himself to Messrs John and Henry Walker, who owned the Free- 
love, in which Cook embarked. She was principally engaged in 
the coal trade, but made a voyage or two to the north ; and when 
his time was out, the youngster still continued to serve as a fore- 
mast-man till he was made mate of one of Mr John Walker^s 
ships. During this period he evinced no particular marks of 
genius. His associates, however, were not exactly the class of 
persons to observe the real bent of his mind ; they thought him 
taciturn, and sometimes sullen ; but this doubtless arose from his 
studious habits, and endeavours to acquire knowledge. As for 
practical seamanship, there could be no better school than a collier. 
When in his twenty-seventh year, war broke out between 
England and France, and Cook, who was then in the Thames, 
tried to escape the pressgang, which was sweeping the river of 
every seaman that could be picked up. This restraint, however, 
did not meet his views ; he looked upon the service of his country 
as honourable, and at once entered for the Eagle, of 60 guns, 
commanded by Captain Hamer, who, a few months afterwards, 
was superseded by Captain (subsequently Sir Hugh) Palliser. 
The young man's steady conduct and seaman-like qualities soon 
attracted this officer's attention. His knowledge of the coasts was 
excellent ; and Mr Skottowe having applied to Mr Osbaldeston, 
M. P. for Scarborough, to exert his influence to raise Cook to 
the quarter-deck, by the joint interest of this gentleman, with 
Captain Palliser, a warrant as master was obtained on 10th 
May 1759, James being* then in his thirty-first year. He joined 
the Grampus, but she had a master already ; he was then ap- 
pointed to the Garland, but she was abroad ; and eventually he 
sailed in the Mercury, to join the fleet under Sir Charles Saunders, 
then engaged, in conjunction with General Wolfe in the reduction 
of Quebec. Here the peculiar talents of Mr Cook were called 


into active operation. The buoys in tlie navigation of the St 
Lawrence had all been removed by the French at the first ap- 
pearance of the English fleet, and it was essentially necessary 
that a survey should be made of the channels, and correct sound- 
ings obtained, to enable the ships to keep clear of the numerous 
shoals. By the recommendation of his old commander, Captain 
Palliser, this onerous duty was confided to Mr Cook, who readily 
undertook it in a barge belonging to a 74. This could only be 
executed in many parts during the darkness of the night, on 
account of the enemy ; and he experienced a narrow escape one 
night when detected, his boat having been boarded by Indians 
in the pay of the French, and carried off in triumph, he and 
his companions getting away just in time to save their lives and 
scalps. Through Mr Cook^s judicious arrangements, the fleet 
reached the island of Orleans in safety ; and he afterwards sur- 
veyed and made a chart of the St Lawrence, which, together with 
sailing directions for that river, were published in London. 

On his return from Quebec, Mr Cook was appointed master of 
the Northumberland, under Lord Colville, who was stationed as 
commodore at Halifax. Here he enjoyed much leisure during 
the winter ; but instead of frittering it away in the frivolous or 
worse amusements of a seaport, he diligently employed it in 
studies suitable to his profession. No sailor can possibly advance 
beyond the rank of an ordinary seaman unless he be acquainted 
with the theory as well as the practice of navigation ; and to 
gain this knowledge, he must attain a certain proficiency in 
mathematics. Aware of this, Cook began by gaining an accu- 
rate knowledge of Euclid's Elements of Plane Geometry ; and 
proceeded thence to the higher branches of mathematical study, 
including nautical astronomy. By these means he learned to 
take astronomical observations, to calculate a ship^s progress, and 
to ascertain the degree of latitude and longitude at any given 
spot on the trackless ocean. In short, he became an accomplished 
mariner, ready for any office of trust. Besides improving him- 
self in these useful branches of education, he possessed sufficient 
tact to cultivate urbanity of manner, and to gain the confidence 
and esteem of his acquaintance. This was a point of some con- 
sequence; for intellectual acquirements, without a polite and 
high moral bearing, are of small avail in the general intercourse 
of the world, and, personally, may do more harm than good. It 
is gratifjdng to know that Cook aimed at gentlemanly behaviour 
not less than skill in his profession ; and to this commendable 
effort — which the most humble may practise — is perhaps owing 
not a little of his future success in life. 

In 1762 the Northumberland was ordered to Newfoundland, 
to assist in the recapture of that island ; and here the talents and 
assiduity of our hero were again conspicuous. Greatly improved 
by his winter's studies, he was now still more able to make nau- 
tical surveys, and these he carried on to a considerable extent on 



the coast of Newfoundland; laying* down bearings, markings 
headlands and sounding-s, and otherwise placing* on record many 
facts which proved highly advantageous to future voyagers, 
especially those engaged in fishing speculations. 

Towards the close of this year (1762) Mr Cook returned to 
England, and was married at Barking, in Essex, to Miss Eliza- 
beth Batts, who has been spoken of as a truly amiable and excel- 
lent woman. In the following year, through the intervention of 
Captain (afterwards Admiral) Graves, the governor of Newfound- 
land, who was well acquainted with Cook^s worth, he was ap- 
pointed to survey the whole coast of that island, which he accom- 
plished with great ability, as well as Miquelon and St Pierre, 
which had been ceded to the French. Cook then returned to 
England, but did not remain long. His constant friend, Sir 
Hugh Palliser, assumed the command at Newfoundland, and 
took Mr Cook with him, bearing the appointment of marine 
surveyor, and a schooner was directed to attend upon him. in his 
aquatic excursions. His charts and observations, particularly on 
astronomy, brought him into correspondence with the members 
of the Royal Society ; and some scientific observations on the 
eclipse of the sun were inserted in the 57th volume of the Philo- 
sophical Transactions. 

Here may be said to close the first chapter in Cook's life. We 
have traced him from the humble home of his father, an obscure 
peasant, through the early part of his career, till his thirty-fourth 
year, at which time he had gained a footing among the most 
learned men in England. The youthful aspirant will observe 
that this enviable point had not been reached without patient 
study. Cook could have gained no acquaintanceship with mem- 
bers of the Royal Society, nor could he have placed himself in 
the way of promotion, had he been contented to remain an illi- 
terate seaman. 


Prepared by diligent self-culture. Cook was ready for any 
enterprise which circumstances might produce. The project 
of a voyage of discovery, involving certain important astro- 
nomical observations, fortunately came under discussion while 
he was in a state of hesitation as to his future movements. The 
principal object of the expedition was to observe a transit of the 
planet Venus over the face of the sun, which could only be done 
somewhere in the Pacific or Southern ocean. The transit was 
to happen in June 1769. The Royal Society, as interested in 
the phenomenon for the sake of science, applied to George III. 
to fit out an expedition suitable to take the observations. The 
request was complied with ; and no other man being so well 
calculated to take the command, it was given to Cook. The 
appointment was quite to the mind of our hero, and he was soon 
ready for sea. He received the commission of a lieutenant from 


his majesty, and the Endeavour, of 370 tons, was placed at his 
disposal. About this time Captain Wallis returned from his 
voyage of discovery, and reported Otaheite (now called Tahiti) 
to be the most eligible spot for the undertaking. That island 
was therefore fixed upon for the observation. Mr Charles Green 
undertook the astronomical department, and Mr Banks (after- 
wards Sir Joseph) and Dr Solander, purely through a love of 
science, and at great expense to themselves, obtained permission 
to accompany the expedition. 

The Endeavour was victualled for eighteen months, armed 
with 12 carriage guns and 12 swivels, and manned with a com- 
plement of 84 seamen. Every requisite preparation was made 
for such a voyage that human foresight could suggest ; trinkets 
and other things were put on board to trade with the natives ; 
and on the 26th August 1768 they sailed from Plymouth Sound 
for the hitherto but little explored South Seas. On the 13th 
September they anchored in Funchal roads, Madeira, and here 
commenced the researches and inquiries of the men of science. 
From hence they departed on the night of the 18th ; and falling 
short of water and provisions on the Brazil coast, they put into 
the beautiful harbour of Rio Janeiro on the 13th November. The 
viceroy of this line city could make nothing of the scientific 
intentions of the English, and was exceedingly troublesome and 
annoying. When told that they were bound to the South Seas 
to observe the transit of Venus, he could form no other concep- 
tion of the matter than that it was the passing of the north star 
through the south pole. Numerous difficulties were thrown in 
the way of the departure of the voyagers after they had victualled 
and watered ; and when they sailed, shots were fired at them 
from the fort of Santa Cruz, a heavy battery at the entrance of 
the harbour ; and on inquiry, Mr Cook ascertained that the pass 
for the Endeavour had not been sent from the city. A spirited 
remonstrance was made, and the viceroy apologised. 

On the 7th December the voyagers finally quitted this place, 
and on the 14th January 1769 entered the Straits of Le Maire, 
where the sea was running tremendously high, and on the fol- 
lowing day anchored in the Bay of Good Success. Although the 
season was extremely inclement, yet the love of botany induced 
Mr Banks, Dr Solander, Mr Monkhouse the surgeon, and Mr 
Green the astronomer, to ascend the mountains in search of 
plants. They took with them their attendants and servants, with 
two seamen ; and after suffering severe hardships from the cold 
and the torpor it produced, they got back to the ship on the 
second day, leaving two black men, who had accompanied them, 
dead from the extreme severity of the weather. They could not 
be got on, but lay down to rest, and slept the sleep of death. Dr 
Solander with great difficulty was saved ; for although the first 
to warn others against the danger of reposing, yet he was event- 
ually himself so overcome, that great exertion was required to 



force him along*. They found the inhabitants on the coasts of 
these straits a wretched set of beings, with scarcely any covering*; 
dwelling in hovels made of sticks and grass, that offered no 
obstruction to the entrance of the wind, the snow, and the rain. 
They wandered about, picking up a scanty subsistence wherever 
they could, thoug'h they had not a single implement to dress 
their fish when caught, or any other food : still, they appeared to 
be contented ; and the only things they coveted from the English 
were beads and useless trinkets. 

On the 26th January the Endeavour took her departure from 
Cape Horn, and before March 1st had run 660 leagues. Several 
islands were discovered in their progress, most of which were 
supposed to be inhabited ; and their beautiful verdure and de- 
lightful appearance were highly gratifying to the sea-worn mari- 
ners. On the 11th April they came in sight of Otaheite, and 
two days after anchored in Port Royal (Matavai), w^here the 
scientific gentlemen landed, and fixed upon a spot to serve them 
for an observatory. The natives displayed much friendship ; but, 
to prevent collision, Mr Cook drew up a code of regulations by 
which communication and traffic were to be carried on. A tent 
was erected on the site proposed — the natives keeping outside a 
marked boundary — and a midshipman with thirteen marines 
were placed over it as guards. As soon as this was accomplished, 
the party proceeded to examine the interior of the island ; but 
soon after their departure, one of the natives snatched away the 
musket of the sentry. The marines were ordered to fire, and the 
thief was shot dead. This greatly alarmed the natives ; but in 
a day or two they again became familiarised and friendly. Mr 
Cook proceeded to erect a fort round the observatory, and 
mounted six swivel guns, which caused apprehensions amongst 
the chiefs ; but the natives assisted in the works ; and the com- 
mander displayed his sense of justice by publicly flogging the 
butcher for having attempted or threatened the life of a wife of 
one of the chiefs, who was particularly favourable to the English. 
On the first stroke of the lash, the natives earnestly solicited that 
the man should be forgiven ; but Mr Cook deemed the example 
essential, and inflicted the w^hole punishment, greatly to the pain 
and regret of the compassionate Indians, many of whom shed 

As soon as the fort was completed, and the astronomical in- 
struments were landed, they sought for the quadrant by which 
the transit was to be observed, but it was nowhere to be found. 
Diligent search was made, and a reward offered, but without 
success; and it was feared that the object of their long* and 
arduous voyage would remain unaccomplished. At length, 
through the judicious intervention of Mr Banks, the quadrant 
was recovered from the natives who had stolen it, and with great 
joy set up in its place. The approach of the time of observation 
produced anxiety and excitement; and hoping that the atmo- 



sphere would be clear and favour able^ as well as to make assur- 
ance sure, Mr Cook established two other observatories — one on 
the island of Eimeo, under Mr Banks, and the other to the east- 
ward of the main observatory, under Mr Hicks (the master). 
The morning- of the 3d June was ushered in with a cloudless 
sky, and at the fort the transit was observed in the most satis- 
factory manner. The success of their enterprise was highly 
gratifying" to the voyager^ ; but their pleasure was somewhat 
damped by the violence which at times was engendered be- 
tween the natives and the seamen, the former of whom proved 
to be dexterous thieves. But Mr Cook would not allow the 
plunderers to be fired upon, as he considered the issue of life 
and death to be of too important a nature to be intrusted to 
a sentinel, without any form of trial or show of equity; nor 
did he deem a petty theft as meriting so severe a punishment. 
On one occasion, however, he seized upon all their fishing 
canoes, fully laden ; and though from motives of humanity he 
gave up the fish, yet he detained the vessels, under a hope that 
several articles which had been pilfered would be restored. But 
in this he was mistaken ; for nothing of value was given up, 
and ultimately he released the canoes. Mr Cook and Mr 
Banks circumnavigated the island, and visited many villages, 
where they renewed acquaintance with the several chiefs. JEx- 
ploring parties were also sent into the interior ; and Mr Banks 
planted the seeds of water-melons, oranges, lemons, limes, and 
other plants and trees which he had collected for the purpose (some 
of which are now in rich perfection) ; and it was ascertained that 
parts of the island manifested appearances of subterranean fire. 

On the 7th July the carpenters began to dismantle the fort 
preparatory to departure, and on the 13th the ship weighed 
anchor. Tupia, one of the principal natives, and chief priest of 
the country, with a boy of thirteen, having obtained permission 
from Mr Cook to embark for England, they took an affecting 
and affectionate leave of their friends. Few places possess more 
seductive influences than Otaheite. The climate is delightful, 
the productions of the earth bountiful and almost spontaneous, 
and the people, though addicted to pilfering, simple, kind-hearted, 
and hospitable. 

After quitting Otaheite, the Endeavour visited the islands 
Huaheine, Ulietea, Otaha, and Bolabola, where Mr Cook pur- 
chased various articles of food. They also anchored at Owharre, 
and exchanged friendly gifts with the natives ; and presents of 
English medals, &c. with inscriptions, were made to the king 
Oree. Ulietea had been conquered by the king of Bolabola, but 
he received the English with considerable courtesy. These visits 
occupied rather more than three weeks; and Ulietea, Otaha, 
Bolabola, Huaheine, Tabai, and Mawrua, as they lay contiguous 
to each other, were named by Mr Cook the Society Islands. 

In their intercourse with the natives of these places (all of 


whicli more or less resembled the manners ^nd habits of the 
Otaheitans), they were greatly assisted by Tupia, who was very 
proud of the power possessed by his new friends. On the 9th 
August, the Endeavour quitted Ulietea, and on the 13th made 
the island Oheteoa, v/here they attempted to land; but the natives 
displayed so much hostility, that Mr Cook deemed it best to de- 
sist, and proceeded on his way to the southward in search of a 
supposed continent. On the 25th they celebrated the anniver- 
sary of their departure from England, and on the 30th they ob- 
served a comet ; it was just above the horizon, to the eastward, 
at one a.m.; and about half-past four, when it passed the meri- 
dian, its tail subtended an angle of forty-five degrees. Tupia 
declared that its appearance would be the signal for the warriors 
of Bolabola to attack the Ulieteans and drive them to the moun- 
tains. The vessel was now proceeding in a south-westerly direc- 
tion from the Pacific towards New Zealand, Cook designing' to 
return by way of the Cape of Good Hope, and thus circumnavi- 
gate the globe. On the 6th October land was discovered, which 
proved to be a part of New Zealand ; where, having anchored, an 
attempt was made to open a communication with the natives, but 
without effect. Their hostile menaces and actions were all of a 
decidedly warlike nature, and it was only when they felt the supe- 
riority of firearms, of which they seemed to have been in igno- 
rance, that they desisted from attacks. Tupia addressed them to 
be peaceable, and they understood his language; but he could not 
prevail upon them to put confidence in the English. A conflict 
took place, in which some of the New Zealanders were rather 
unnecessarily killed, and three boys were taken prisoners, who 
were treated with much kindness. As the place afforded nothing 
that the voyagers wanted, Mr Cook named it Poverty Bay. The 
boys were dismissed, and the treatment they had experienced 
induced some of the Indians to come off to the ship ; but it ap- 
peared almost impossible to conciliate any one of them, for long. 
Armed parties in large canoes assembled, and paddled off to the 
Endeavour, under pretext of trading, but in reality to plunder ; 
and in various instances it was deemed essentially necessary to 
fire upon them. They also seized Tayeto, Tupia's boy, but were 
compelled to relinquish their prey throug'h the effects of a mus- 
ket ball; and the lad, taking advantage, leaped from the canoe, 
in which he had been held down, and swam back to the ship. 
Whilst standing along the coast, they fell in with the largest 
canoe they had yet seen : her length was 68^ feet, her breadth 
5 feet, and her depth 3 feet 6 inches. About this time the En- 
deavour narrowly escaped being wrecked on the rocks that lay 
some distance from the land ; but by the skill and judgment of 
Mr Cook, the danger was avoided. On the 9th November, Lieu- 
tenant Cook, accompanied by Mr Green, landed with the neces- 
sary instruments to observe the transit of Mercury over the sun's, 
disc, and this they performed to their entire satisfaction. 



On the 5tli December, whilst turning* out of the Bay of Islands, 
it fell calm ; and the Endeavour drifted so close to the shore, that 
notwithstanding" the incessant roar of the breakers, they could 
converse with the natives on the beach. The pinnace was g'ot 
out to tow the vesseFs head round ; but none expected to escape 
destruction, when a lig'ht land-breeze sprang up, and gradually 
they g-ot clear from their perilous situation — the ground was too 
foui to anchor. About an hour afterwards, just as the man 
heaving the lead sang out " seventeen fathoms," she struck on 
a sunken rock with force ; but the swell washed her over, and 
she was again in deep water. On the 30th December they made 
the land, which they judged to be Cape Maria, Van Diemens ; 
and on the 14th January 1770, anchored in a snug cove in Queen 
Charlotte's Sound, to relit the ship and clean her bottom. Here 
they caught a great quantity of fish by means of the seine — at 
one time not less than three hundredweight at two hauls. They 
also found an excellent stream of fresh-water. In one of their 
researches they discovered an Indian family; and it is related 
that they had indisputable proofs of the custom of eating human 
flesh. The place they were in is described as very delightful ; 
and Mr Cook took several opportunities of obtaining views from 
the high hills, and examining the nearest coast. The inhabitants 
were friendly disposed, and everywhere received the English 
with hospitality. Mr Cook selected a favourable spot, on which 
he erected a pole, and having hoisted the union jack, named the 
place Queen Charlotte's Sound, in honour of her majesty. Coins 
and spike-nails were given to the Indian spectators ; and after 
drinking the queen's health in wine, the empty bottle was 
bestowed upon the man who had carried it when full, with which 
he was much delighted. 

On the 5th February he quitted this part of New Zealand, 
and proceeded to explore three or four islands in that locality, 
giving names to capes, headlands, rocks, &c. But this was not 
accomplished without considerable peril, on account of the 
strength of the currents. To one place he gave the name of 
Admiralty Bay, where he took in wood and filled his water-casks, 
and sailed again on the 31st March, intending to return home 
by way of the East Indies. On the 19th April they came in 
sight of New Holland (or New South Wales, as it is now called), 
and anchored in Botany Bay on the 28th, where they landed ; 
but contrary to the will of two or three Indians, who attacked 
the English with their lances, but on the firing of muskets, fled. 
The voyagers left beads and trinkets in the huts of the natives, 
and during the time they remained at that place they were 
untouched. The inhabitants seemed utterly reg-ardless of the 
ship, though they could never have seen such a spectacle before. 
Here they caught a fish called a string-ray, which, after the 
entrails were taken out, weighed 336 pounds. 

Mr Cook prosecuted his discoveries in New South Wales with 


zeal and energy over a track of 1300 miles ; but on tlie 10th 
June, near Trinity Bay, the Endeavour struck on a reef of coral 
rocks, and was compelled to start her water, throw her guns 
overboard, and use every mode to lighten the vessel ; but with 
four pumps at work, they could not keep her free ; and every soul, 
though struggling hard for life, yet prepared for that death 
which now appeared to be inevitable. Upon these rocks the ship 
remained for nearly forty-eight hours, her sheathing ripped off^ 
and the very timbers nearly rubbed through : by great exertion, 
however, she was got afloat at high tide, and it was found that she 
made no more water than when aground ; and the men, by work- 
ing incessantly at the pumps, kept her afloat. At the suggestion 
of Mr Monkhouse, a sail was fothered (that is, pieces of oakum 
and other light materials were slightly stitched to it), and being 
hauled under the ship^s bottom, the loose pieces were sucked into 
the leaks, and in a great measure stopped the holes, so that they 
were enabled to keep the water in the hold under with only one 
pump. On the morning of the 17th, after running aground 
twice, they got into a convenient harbour for repairing their 
damages ; and here, when the vessel was hove down, they found 
a large piece of rock in the ship's bottom, firmly jammed in the 
hole it had made, so as to exclude the sea, and which, if it had 
fallen out, must have proved fatal to all. 

About this time the scurvy broke out amongst them, and at- 
tacked indiscriminately both officers and men; but the quantity 
of fish that was caught, allowing each man two pounds and a-haif 
per day, together with turtle and herbs, somewhat checked its 
progress. Three of the turtle caught weighed together 791 pounds. 
The natives took but little notice of the voyagers at first, but after- 
wards became familiar ; and on one occasion, when refused some- 
thing which they wanted, one of them seized a firebrand, and 
going to windward of the place where the armourer was at work, 
set fire to the high grass, so that every part of the smith's forge 
that would burn was destroyed. A musket ball was fired at 
them, and they ran away. The fire was repeated in the woods 
shortly afterwards, but without injury, as the stores and powder 
that had been landed were already on board. The hills all round 
burned fiercely for several nights. 

It must here be mentioned, that the injuries sustained hj the 
vessel proved destructive to many valuable specimens that had 
been collected by Mr Banks, which had been put for security in 
the bread-room, but the salt-water saturating a great portion, they 
were utterly spoiled. The place where they refitted was named 
by Mr Cook Endeavour Biver. Its entrance for many miles was 
surrounded with shoals, and the channels between them were 
very intricate. On the 4th August they quitted their anchorage, 
and it was not till the 24th that they got clear of the reefs and 
sandbanks. After another narrow escape from being wrecked^ 
they made New Guinea on the 3d September, where they an- 



cliored, and went on shore ; but the hostility of the natives, "who 
resembled those of New South Wales, prevented intercourse. 
The latter used a sort of combustible material that ig;nited, with- 
out any report. The land looked rich and luxurious in vegeta- 
tion, and the cocoa-nut, the bread-fruit, and the plantain trees, 
flourished in the highest perfection. Mr Cook made sail to the 
westward, contrary to the wish of his people, who wanted to cut 
down the trees to get their fruit, but which, through humanity 
to the natives, he would not permit. In pursuing their voyage, 
they fell in with islands which were not upon the charts, and 
passed Timor and others, intending to run for Java : on the 
.17th they saw a beautiful island, and found Dutch residents, 
with cattle and sheep. The crew of the Endeavour had suffered 
many privations and hardships, and the scurvy was making 
havoc among them, so that they complained of their commander 
not having put in at Timor ; but now they obtained nine buf- 
faloes, six sheep, three hogs, thirty dozen of fowls, &;c. with 
several hundred gallons of palm syrup. This was the island 
Savu, and the natives are spoken of as highly pure in their 
morals and integrity, and their land a perfect paradise. 

On the 21st Mr Cook again sailed, and on the 1st October 
came within sight of Java, and on the 9th brought up in Batavia 
Roads, where they found the Harcourt East Indiaman, and once 
more enjoyed the pleasure of communicating with their country- 
men, and obtaining news from home. As it was deemed neces- 
sary to re-examine the Endeavour's bottom, preparations were 
made for that purpose. Tupia and his boy Tayoeta weve almost 
mad with delight on viewing the display of European manners 
on shore ; but sickness assailed all who resided in the city, and 
the two Indians became its victims. In about six weeks there 
were buried Mr Spearing, assistant to Mr Banks, Mr Parkinson, 
artist, Mr Green, astronomer, the boatswain, the carpenter and 
his mate, Mr Monkhouse and another midshipman, the sailmaker 
and his assistant, the ship's cook, the corporal of marines, and 
eleven seamen. 

On the 27th December the Endeavour, being completed, stood, 
out to sea, and on the 5th January 1771 anchored at Prince's 
Island, but sailed again on the 15th for the Cape of Good Hope^, 
where they arrived on the 15th March. On the 14th April Mr 
Cook resumed his voyage home, touched at St Helena (1st May 
to 4th), made the Lizard on the 10th June, and anchored the next 
day in the Downs, where Mr Cook left her. 

The arrival of Mr Cook, and the publication of sketches of his 
voyage, produced earnest desires to ascertain the full extent of 
his discoveries. Unknown parts had been explored ; vast addi- 
tions were made to geographical and scientific knowledge ; the 
productions of various countries, together with the manners, 
habits, and customs of the natives, excited universal curiosity 
and deep interest; so that, when Dr Hawkesworth's account of the 



voyage, from the papers of Mr Cook and Mr Banks, was pub- 
lished, it was eag-erly bought up at a large price. The astrono- 
mical observations threw much information on the theory of the 
heavenly bodies ; navigation had eminently proved its vast capa- 
bilities : it had been in a great measure determined that no 
southern continent existed, or at least that neither New Zealand 
nor New South Wales were parts of such a continent ; and most 
interesting accounts were given of the places visited and the 
perils encountered. 

Mr Cook was promoted to the rank of commander ; the Royal 
Society honoured him with especial favour and notice ; and his 
society was courted by men of talent and research, eager for in- 
formation. His worthy patrons, Sir Charles Saunders and Sir 
Hugh Palliser, were gratified to find their recommendations had 
been so well supported ; the Earl of Sandwich, then at the head 
of the Admiralty Board, paid him considerable attention ; and 
his majesty George III. treated him with more than ordinary 
consideration. Captain Cook enjoyed sufficient to make him 
proud ; but he was too humble in mind, too modest in disposi- 
tion, and too diffident in manners, to cherish one atom of unbe- 
coming self-estimation. 


The idea of the existence of a southern continent, or, as the 
learned called it. Terra Australis Incognita, had existed for more 
than two centuries ; and though Cook had sailed over many 
parts where it was said to be situated, without seeing land, yet 
his first voyage did not altogether destroy the expectation that it 
might yet be found. Besides, his discoveries in the South Seas 
had whetted the public appetite for still further knowledge on 
the subject. The king, well pleased with what had been done, 
vrished more to be accomplished; and accordingly, two stout 
ships built at Hull were purchased — the Besolution, of 462 
tons, commanded by Captain Cook, with a complement of 112 
persons ; and the Adventure, of 336 tons, commanded by Tobias 
Purneaux, with a crew, including officers, of 81 souls. These 
appointments took place on 28th November 1771, and the most 
active exertions were immediately called into operation to fit 
them for the undertaking. Experience had taught Captain 
Cook what was most essential and requisite for such a voyage ; 
not only for the comforts and preservation of his people from 
scurvy, not only for commerce with the natives, but cattle and 
seeds "of various kinds, and numerous things which philanthropy 
suggested, were shipped for the purpose of spreading the advan- 
tages of propagation and fertilit}^ amongst the South Sea islands ; 
the benefits of which have since been experienced by other 
voyagers in an eminent degree. The Admiralty engaged Mr 
W. Hodges as landscape painter ; Mr J. R. Forster and son 
were appointed to collect specimens of natural history ; and Mr 



Wales in the Resolution, and Mr Bayley in the Adventure, were 
sent hy the Board of Longitude to superintend astronomical 
observations, for which they were furnished with admirable 
instruments and four excellent time-pieces. 

The instructions g;iven to Captain Cook were — ^^To circum- 
navigate the whole globe in high southern latitudes, making 
traverses from time to time into every part of the Pacific Ocean 
that had not undergone previous investigation, and to use his 
best endeavours to resolve the much agitated question of the 
existence of a southern continent." 

On the 13th July 1772 the two vessels quitted Plymouth, and 
after touching at Madeira for wine, and at the Cape de Verds for 
water, crossed the line with a brisk south-west wind, and anchored 
in Table Bay, Cape of Good Hope, on the 30th October. Here 
Captain Cook ascertained that the French were prosecuting dis- 
coveries in the South Seas, and that, about eight months before, 
two French ships had sailed about forty miles along land in the 
latitude of 48 degrees, but had been driven oif by a gale of wind. 
He also learned that two others had recently left the Mauritius 
for a similar purpose. On the 22d November Captain Cook 
took leave of Table Bay, and pursued his voyage for Cape Cir- 
cumcision, but encountered very severe gales, which destroyed 
much of the live stock, and the people experienced great incon- 
venience from the intensity of the cold. The judicious manage- 
ment of the commander, however, prevented any fatal result. 
Warm clothing was given to the men ; the decks below were 
kept well dried and ventilated, as well as warmed ; and an addi- 
tion was made to the issue of g'rog. On the 10th December 
they fell in with immense icebergs, some two miles in circuit at 
the edge of the water, and about sixty feet in height, over which 
the sea was breaking with tremendous violence. On the 14th 
the ships were stopped by a field of low ice, to which no end 
could be seen, either east, west, or south. On the 18th they 
got clear of this obstruction, but continued amongst the fields 
and bergs, with heavy gales of wind, till the 1st January 1773, 
when it was clear enough to see the moon, which they had only 
done once before since quitting the Cape. The fogs had been so 
impenetrable as to obscure the heavens. Various indications 
had induced a belief that land was not far distant, and Captain 
Cook had as near as possible pursued a course for the supposed 
Cape Circumcision. By the 17th January they had reached the 
latitude of 67 degrees 15 minutes south, where they found the 
ice closely packed from east to west-south-west, and further pro- 
gress debarred, unless by running the hazard of getting blocked 
up, as the summer in this part of the world was rapidly passing 
away. The captain therefore desisted from penetrating further 
to the south, and returned northerly, to look for the asserted 
recently-discovered land of the French. On the 1st February 
they were in latitude 48 degrees 30 minutes south, and longitude 



58 degrees 7 minutes east, where it was stated to have been seen ; 
but nothing* of the kind presented itself to view. He traversed 
this part of the ocean with similar results ; and during* a dense 
fog-j parted company with the Adventure. On the 23d they were 
in latitude 61 degrees 52 minutes south, and longitude 95 deg-rees 
2 minutes east ; the weather thick and stormy, and the ship 
surrounded by drifting" ice. Captain Cook therefore stood to 
the north in a hard g-ale with a heavy sea, which broke up the 
mountains of ice, and rendered them, by their numbers, still 
more dangerous, especially in the long dark nights. On the 13th 
and 14th March the astronomers got observations which showed 
the latitude to be 58 degrees 22 minutes south, and the longitude 
136 degrees 22 minutes east, whilst the watches showed the latter 
to be 134 degrees 42 minutes east. Captain Cook had become 
convinced he had left no continent south of him, and conse- 
quently shaped a course for New Zealand, to refresh his men, 
refit his ship, and look for the Adventure. He made the land, 
and anchored in Dusky Bay on the 26th March, after having 
heeii 117 days at sea, and traversed 3660 leagues without 
seeing any land; whilst during the whole time, through the 
arrangements and supplies of Captain Cook, scarcely a single 
case of scurvy occurred. From Dusky Bay they removed to 
another anchorage, where fish were plentifully caught, and the 
woods abounded with wild fowl ; timber and fire-wood were 
close at hand, and a fine stream of fresh water within a hundred 
yards of the ship's stern. This place was named Pickersgill 
'Harbour, in honour of the lieutenant who discovered it. The 
workmen erected tents for the forge, the carpenters, the sail- 
makers, coopers, and others, and a spot was selected for an ob- 
servatory. Some tolerably good beer was manufactured from 
the branches and leaves of a tree resembling the American black 
spruce, mixed with the inspissated juice of wort and molasses. 

On the 28th some of the natives visited them, and though at 
first shy, a friendly intercourse was subsequently established. 
Captain Cook surveyed Dusky Bay, where, in retired spots, he 
planted seeds, and left several geese. They also caught a num- 
ber of seals, from which they procured a supply of oil. On 
the 11th May they quitted this place for Queen Charlotte's 
Sound, and on the 17th it fell perfectly calm, and they had an 
opportunit}^- of seeing no less than six waterspouts, one of which 
passed within fifty yards of the Resolution. The next day they 
made the Sound, where the Adventure had already arrived, and 
great was the joy at meeting. On the 4th June they celebrated 
the birthday of George III., and a chief and his family, consist- 
ing of ninety persons, were shown the gardens which had been 
made, which they promised to continue in cultivation. A male 
and female goat were put on shore on the east side of the Sound, 
and a boar and two sows near Cannibal Cove, which it was 
hoped would not be molested. 



On the 17tli June tlie ships sailed, and on tlie 29tli July the 
crew of the Adventure manifested rather alarming symptoms of 
a sickly state. The cook died, and about twenty of her best men 
were incapable of duty through scurvy and flux ; whilst at this 
period only three men were sick in the ResolutioUj and but one 
of these with the scurvy. The difference was attributed to the 
people of the former ship not having fed much upon celery, 
scurvy -grasS; and other greens, whilst at Queen Charlotte's 
Sound. On the 1st August they were in the supposed position 
of Pitcairn's Island, laid down by Captain Carteret in 1767 ; but 
as its longitude was incorrectly stated, they did not see it, but 
must have passed it about 15 leagues to the westward. On the 
6th of Aug'ust the ships got the advantage of the trade-winds 
at south-east, being at that time in latitude 19 degrees 36 minutes 
south, and longitude 131 degrees 32 minutes west. The captain 
directed his course west-north-west, passed a number of islands 
and rocks, which he named the Dangerous Archipelago, and on 
the 15th August came in sight of Osnaburgh Island, or Maitea, 
which had been discovered by Captain Wallis, and sail was imme- 
diately made for Otaheite, which they saw the same evening. 

On the 17th the ships anchored in Oaiti-piha Bay, and the 
natives immediately crowded on board with fruits and roots, 
which were exchanged for nails and beads ; and presents of shirts, 
axes, &c. were made to several who called themselves chiefs. 
Their thieving propensities, however, could not be restrained; 
and some articles of value having been stolen. Captain Cook 
turned the whole of them out of the ship, and then fired mus- 
ketry over their heads, to show them the hazard which they ran. 
It is worthy of remark, that though Tupia was well known to 
the islanders, yet very few inquired what had become of him; 
and those who did, on being informed that he was dead, expressed 
neither sorrow, suspicion, nor surprise ; but every one anxiously 
asked for Mr Banks and others who had accompanied Captain 
Cook in his former voyage. With respect to the Otaheitans, 
considerable changes had occurred. Toutaha, the regent of the 
great peninsula of that island, had been slain in battle about 
five months before the Kesolution's arrival, and Otoo was now 
the reigning chief. Several others friendly to the English had 
fallen ; but Otoo manifested much friendship for them. A few 
days subsequent to their anchoring in the bay, a marine died ; 
the rest of the men, who had laboured under sickness and scor- 
butic weakness, very soon recovered, through the supplies of 
fresh meat and vegetables. 

On the 24th the ships got under weigh, and the next evening 
anchored in Matavai Bay, where the decks became excessively 
crowded by natives, who had visited them the voyage previous. 
On the following day Captain Cook went to Oparre to see Otoo, 
whom he describes as a fine well-made man, six feet high, and 
about thirty years of age. He was not, however, very coura- 



geous, for he declined accompanying the captain on board the 
Resolution, as he was " afraid of the guns." The observatory 
was fitted up, the sick were landed, as well as a guard of ma- 
rines, and the natives brought hogs and fruits to barter. Some 
disturbance that took place through two or three marines behav- 
ing rudely to the women, caused at the time considerable alarm ; 
but the men were seized and punished, and tranquillity restored. 

Everything being ready for sea, on the 1st September the ships 
quitted Matavai Bay, and visited the other islands. At Owharre, 
the chief brought the presents he had received from Captain 
Cook on the previous voyage, to show that he had treasured 
them. He also behaved very generously, in sending the best 
fruits and vegetables that could be procured for the captain's 
table. The intercourse with the natives was proceeding very 
quietly, when, on the 6th, without any provocation, a man assailed 
Captain Cook with a club at the landing-place ; and Mr Sparr- 
man, who had gone into the woods to botanise, was stripped 
and beaten. The Indians expressed great contrition for this 
outrage ; and the king, on being informed of it, not only wept 
aloud, but placed himself under the entire control of the English, 
and went with them in search of the stolen articles. His subjects 
endeavoured to prevent this, but his sister encouraged him ; 
and not meeting with success, Oree insisted on being taken on 
board the Resolution to remain as a hostage. He dined with 
Captain Cook, and was afterwards landed by that officer, to the 
great joy of the people, who brought in hogs and fruits, and 
soon tilled two boats. The only thing recovered belonging to 
Mr Sparrman was his hanger. The next day the ships unmoored, 
and put to sea for Huaheine, where they remained a short time, 
and received on board a native named Omai, who afterwards 
figured much in England. 

The inhabitants of the Society Islands generally manifested 
great timidity ; on some occasions they oifered human sacrifices 
to a supreme being. The voyagers quitted this part of the world 
on the 1 7th, and sailed to the westward, and gave the name of 
Harvey's Island to land they discovered on the 23d. It was in 
19 degrees 18 minutes south, and 158 degrees 4 minutes west. 
By October 1st they reached Middleburg', and were welcomed 
with loud acclamations bv the natives. Barter commenced ; but 
the people ashore seemed more desirous to g'ive than to receive, 
and threw into the boats whole bales of cloth, without asking or 
waiting for anything in return. After leaving some garden 
seeds, and other useful things, the ships proceeded to Amsterdam, 
where they met a similar reception ; but Captain Cook putting 
a stop to the purchase of curiosities and cloth, the natives brought 
off pigs, fowls, and fruits in abundance, which they exchanged 
for spike nails. The island was extensively cultivated; there 
appeared to be not an inch of waste ground ; and the fertility of 
the soil was excellent. Captain Cook paid a visit to the head 



chief, who was seated, and seemed to be in a sort of idiotic stupor, 
nor did he take the slightest notice of the captain or any one 
else. The inhabitants of these islands are described as being* of 
good shape, regular features, brisk and lively ; particularly the 
women, who were constantly merry and cheerful. Most of the 
people had lost one or both of their little fingers, but no reason 
could be gathered as to the cause of amputation. 

The voyage was renewed on the 7th October, and on the 21st 
they came in sight of New Zealand, eight or ten leagues from 
Table Cape, when Captain Cook presented the chief with two boars, 
two sows, four hens, two cocks, and a great variety of seeds — • 
wheat, peas, beans, cabbage, turnips, onions, &c., and a spike nail 
about ten inches in length, with which latter he seemed to be 
more delighted than with all the rest put together. After beat- 
ing about the coast in a variety of tempestuous weather, the 
Resolution anchored in Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte's Sound, on 
the 3d November; but the Adventure was separated from them 
in a heavy gale, and was never seen or heard of during the 
remainder of the voyage. In this place they made the best use 
of the means they possessed to repair the damage they had sus- 
tained, but, on examining the stock of bread, ascertained that 
4992 pounds were totally unfit for use, and other 3000 pounds in 
such a state of decay that none but persons situated as our 
voyagers were could have eaten it. On inquiry after the animals 
left on the island by Captain Cook, most of them were pre- 
served in good condition, with the exception of two goats that a 
native had destroyed. The articles planted in the gardens were 
in a flourishing condition. To his former gifts the captain now 
added many others, and placed them in such situations that they 
were not likely to be disturbed. Whilst lying here, complaint 
was made that some of the Resolution's men had plundered a 
native hut. The thief was discovered, tied up to a post, and 
flogged in the presence of the chiefs and their people, who ex- 
pressed themselves satisfied with the punishment inflicted. It was 
a great principle with Cook to set an example of strict honesty. 

In this second voyas^e the captain gained indisputable proofs 
that the New ZealanSers were eaters of human flesh; but he 
firmly believed that it was the flesh of captives, or those who had 
been killed in battle. 

Captain Cook quitted New Zealand on the 26th November, his 
ship's company in good health and spirits, and nowise daunted 
at the prospects of hardships they were about to endure in again 
searching for a southern continent or islands in high latitudes. 
They were not long before they once more encountered fields and 
islands of ice, and when in latitude 67 degrees 5 minutes, they 
were nearly blocked up. On the 22d December they attained 
the highest latitude they could venture — this was 67 degrees 
31 minutes south, and in longitude 142 degrees 54 minutes west ; 
but no land was discovered. The crew of the Resolution were 



attacked by slig-lit fever, caused by colds, but on coming nortb- 
wardj it was cured in a few days ; and on tbe 5th January 1774, 
when in 50 degi^ees south, there were not more than two or three 
persons on the sick list. 

After traversing" the ocean as far south as it was prudent to 
go, all the scientific men expressed their belief that ice surrounded 
the pole without any intervening* land; the Eesolution conse- 
quently returned to the northward to look for the island of Juan 
Fernandez. About this time Captain Cook was seized with a 
dangerous and distressing disease, and it was several days before 
the worst symptoms were removed. On his amending, there 
being no fresh provisions on board, and his stomach loathing the 
salt food, a favourite dog of Mr Forster was killed and boiled, 
which afforded both broth and meat, and upon this fare he gained 
strength. The Resolution, on the 11th March, came in sight of 
Easter Island, situated in 27 degrees 5 minutes south, and 109 
degrees 46 minutes west, where they remained a few da^^^s, and 
found the inhabitants very similar in appearance and character 
to the people of the more western isles. The place, however, 
afforded scarcely any food or fuel, the anchorage was unsafe, 
and the only matters worthy of notice were some rudely-carved 
gig'antic statues in the interior. Captain Cook left Easter Island 
to pursue a course for the Marquesas, and got sig^ht of them on 
the 6th April. During the passage the captain had a recurrence 
of his disorder, but it was neither so violent nor so long in dura- 
tion as before. The ship was anchored in Resolution Bay, at the 
island of St Christina, where thievery was practised equally as 
much as at the Society and other isles ; and one of the natives 
was unfortunately killed v/hilst in the act of carrying away the 
iron stanchion of the gangway. They had now been nineteen 
weeks at sea, entirely on salt provisions ; but still, owing to the 
anti-scorbutic articles and medicines, and the warmth and clean- 
liness preserved, scarcely a man was sick. Here they obtained 
fresh meat, fruits, yams, and plantains, but in small quanti- 
ties ; and the captain having corrected, by astronomical observa- 
tions, the exact position of these islands, once more made sail 
for Otaheite. During the passage they passed several small 
islands, and discovered four others, which Cook named after his 
old commander. Sir Hugh Palliser. On the 22d April the anchor 
was again let go in Matavai Bay, where the usual process was 
gone through of erecting the observatory to try the rates of the 
watches ; but no tent was required for the sick, as there was not 
a man ill on board. 

During the stay of Captain Cook at this island, where refresh- 
ments of all kinds were readily obtained, and particularly in 
exchange for some red feathers that had been brought from 
Amsterdam, the old friendships were renewed with Otoo and 
other chiefs ; there was a constant interchange of visits ; and on 
one occasion the Otaheitans got up a grand naval review. 



The large canoes in this part of the world are extremely grace- 
ful and handsome in display, particularly the double war canoes, 
with flags and streamers, paddling' along- with great swiftness, 
and performing their evolutions with considerable skill. No less 
than 160 of the largest double war canoes were assembled, fully 
equipped, and the chiefs and their men, habited in full war cos- 
tume, appeared upon the fighting stages, with their clubs and 
other instruments of warfare ready for action. Besides these 
large vessels, there were 170 smaller double canoes, each of these 
last having a mast and sail, and a sort of hut or cabin on the 
deck. Captain Cook calculated that the number of men embarked 
in them could not be fewer than 7760, most of them armed 
with clubs, pikes, barbed spears, bows and arrows, and slings for 
throwing large stones ; in fact, strongly resembling^ the represen- 
tations of engagements with galleys in the Mediterranean de- 
scribed some centuries before. The spectacle at Otaheite was ex- 
tremely imposing", and greatly surprised the English. 

Whilst lying at Matavai Bay, one of the islanders was caught 
in the act of stealing a water-cask. , Captain Cook had him se- 
cured and sent on board the Resolution, where he was put in 
irons, and in this degraded situation was seen by Otoo and other 
chiefs, who intreated that the man might be pardoned. But the 
captain would not comply with their requests ; he told them that 
" any act of dishonesty amongst his own people was severely 
punished, and he was resolved to make an example of the thief 
he had caught." Accordingly, the culprit was taken ashore to 
the tents, the guard turned out, and the offender being tied 
to a post, received two dozen lashes, inflicted by a boatswain's 
mate. Towha, one of the chiefs, then addressed the people, and 
recommended them to abstain from stealing in future. To make 
a further impression on them, the marines were ordered to go 
through their exercise, and load and fire with ball. 

A few days afterwards one of the gunner's mates attempted to 
desert, and it was soon ascertained that he had formed an attach- 
ment on shore, and if he had got away, the natives would have 
concealed him up the country. Indeed the temptations for re- 
maining in this beautiful country were very great. Every re- 
quisite to sustain existence was abundant, the scenery splendid, 
the earth spontaneously fertile, the waters abounding with fish — 
in short, a few hours' exertion was sufficient to obtain a week's 
supply ; and in a climate replete with health, a European might 
have rendered others subservient to his will, and hved without 
labour of any kind. 

They next anchored in Owharre harbour, at Huaheine, and 
the former amicable intercourse was repeated. The stock of 
nails and articles of traffic being much reduced, the smiths were 
set to work to manufacture more. Whilst lying here, the 
voyagers had an opportunity of witnessing a theatrical repre- 
sentation, principally founded on an actual occurrence. A 



young girl had quitted Otaheite and her friends to accompany a 
seaman to Ulietea, and she was now present to see the drama. 
It described her as running away from her home, the grief of her 
parents, and a long string of adventures, which terminated in 
her returning to her native place, where her reception was none 
of the most gentle that can be conceived. The poor girl could 
hardly be persuaded to wait for the conclusion; and she cried 
most bitterly. 

They parted from the inhabitants with much regret, and hav- 
ing called at Ulietea, they sailed past Howe Island, and dis- 
covered another nearly surrounded with reefs, to which the name 
of Palmerston was given. On the 20th July fresh land was 
seen, on which they went ashore, but found the natives fierce and 
hostile. The firing of muskets did not deter them ; and one came 
close enough to throw a spear at the captain, which passed just 
over his shoulder. The captain presented his piece, but it missed 
fire, and the daring* fellow was saved. They named this Savage 
Island. It lies in latitude 19 degrees 1 minute south, longitude 
169 degrees 37 minutes west. From thence, after passing a 
number of small islets, they anchored on the 26th on the north 
side of Anamocka, Rotterdam, and commenced trade for provi- 
sions. But here, as at the other islands, frequent disputes and 
conflicts took place with the inhabitants on account of their 
thievish propensities. Here they ascertained that a chain of 
islands, some of which they could see, existed in the neighbour- 
hood, forming a group within the compass of three degrees of 
latitude, and two of longitude, and which Captain Cook named 
the Friendly Isles ; which designation they certainly merited, for 
the social qualities and conduct of the natives. 

Pursuing their course westward, they came, on the 1st July, 
to a small island, which, on account of the great number of 
turtle, was named after that amjDhibious creature; and on the 
16th they saw high land ; and after coasting it for two other 
days, they anchored in a harbour in the island of Mallecollo, to 
which the captain gave the name of Port Sandwich. At first the 
natives were hostile, but they were soon conciliated through the 
bland manners of Cook, and were found strictly honest in all 
their dealings. In fact, they are described as totally different to- 
any they had yet visited. They were very dark, extremely ugly, 
and ill-proportioned, and their features strongly resembled those 
of a monkey. 

Soon after getting to sea, various other islands were seen 
and named ; and an afiray took place with some of the natives, 
in which two of them were wounded. A promontory near where 
the skirmish occurred they called Traitor's Head. After cruising 
about amongst the great number of islands in this locality, making- 
observations and taking survej^s, they steered towards New 
Zealand, to wood and water, previous to a renewal of their search 
to the southward : and on the 4th September discovered land, and 



entered a pleasant harbour on the following* day, where they were 
well received. On the 13th they weig-hed again, and surveyed 
the coast, by which they ascertained that the island was very 
extensive ; and, from certain peculiarities. Cook named it New 
Caledonia. Botany here received great accessions. Many plants 
were collected hitherto unknown : and both g-eography and 
natural history afforded much research to the scientific men. A 
small island, on which were growing some pine trees, received 
the name of Pine Island ; and another was called Botany, from 
the great variety of specimens obtained. 

The Resolution, in proceeding" for New Zealand, touched at an 
uninhabited island, abounding with vegetation, which was 
named Norfolk Island, and on the 18th October anchored in 
Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte's Sound, where she refitted and the 
captain completed his survey. Captain Cook had buried a bottle 
near the Cove when he was here before, and in digging now it 
was not to be found. It was therefore supposed that the Adven- 
ture had anchored here, and her people had removed it. On the 
10th November they took their departure ; and having sailed till 
the 27th in different degrees of latitude, from 43 degrees to 54 
degrees 8 minutes south, Captain Cook gave up hopes of falling 
in with any more land in this ocean. He therefore resolved to 
steer for the west entrance of the Straits of Magellan, in order to 
coast along the south side of Terra del Fuego, round Cape Horn 
to the Straits of Le Maire. On 17th December he reached his 
first destination, and here the scenery was very different from 
what they had before beheld. Lofty rocky mountains entirely 
destitute of vegetation, craggy summits, and horrible precipices ; 
the whole aspect of the country barren and savage. Yet near 
every harbour they were enabled to procure fresh-water and fuel ; 
and there were plenty of wild fowl and geese. The inhabitants 
were wretchedly poor and ignorant. 

On the 25th January 1 778, having coasted it as far as 60 
degrees south^ the land presenting the same uncouth appearance, 
covered with ice and snow, and the ship exposed to numerous 
storms, and the people to intense cold, the course was altered to 
look for Bouvet's Land ; but though they reached the spot where 
it was laid down on the charts, and sailed over and over it, yet 
no such place could be discovered ; and after two days' search 
more to the southward. Cook came to the conclusion that Bouvet 
had been deceived by the ice, and once more bent his thoughts 
towards home — especially as the ship stood in need of repairs, and 
her sails and rigging were nearly worn out — and consequently 
steered for the Cape of Good Hope, where he heard of the Adven- 
ture, and anchored in Table Bay on the 22d March. From thence 
he sailed again on the 27th April, touched at St Helena on the 
15th May, and remained till the 21st, and then got under weigh 
for Ascension, where he arrived on the 28th ; and from thence 
shaped a course for the remarkable island Fernando de Noronha, 



whicli lie readied on tlie Qth June ; and pursuing" his way for 
the western islands, anchored in Fayal Eoads on the 14th July^ 
where Mr Wales the astronomer determined the position of the 
Azores by a series of observations. The Resolution ultimately 
entered Portsmouth on the 30th ; and Captain Cook landed after 
an absence of three years and eig'hteen days, having" sailed 
20,000 leag-ues in various climates — from the extreme of heat 
to the extreme of cold. But so judicious had been the arrange- 
ments for preserving" health, and so carefully had Captain Cook 
attended to the ventilation between decks, and the mode of pro- 
moting" warmth, as well as the food, &c. of the people, that 
he lost only one man by sickness. It may naturally be sup- 
posed that the wear and tear of the ship was g-reat, her rigg-ing; 
scarcely trustworthy, and her sails unfit to meet a fresh breeze ; 
yet so careful were the officers of the masts and yards, that not a 
single spar of any consequence was carried away during" the 
whole voyage. 

The fame of Captain Cook as a navigator, coupled with his 
marked humanity as a man, now exalted him in public esti- 
mation far beyond what he had before experienced; and the 
utmost anxiety prevailed to obtain intelligence relative to his 
discoveries, &c. The king, to testify his approbation, made him 
a post captain nine days subsequent to his arrival; and three 
days afterwards, a captaincy in Greenwich Hospital was con- 
ferred upon him, to afford an honourable and competent retire- 
ment from active service. On the 29th February 1776 he was 
elected a member of the Royal Society, and in a short time he 
was honoured with the gold medal ; Sir John Pringle, in pre- 
senting it, uttering a well-merited eulogium on the worthy 
receiver. The account of his second voyag^e was written by 
Captain Cook himself, and manifests a plain manly style, giving 
facts rather than embellishments. 

cook's last voyage. 

The discovery of a supposed north-west passage from the 
North Atlantic to the North Pacific oceans had for many years 
"been ardently sought for both by the English and the Dutch. 
Frobisher in 1576 made the first attempt, and his example was 
in succeeding times followed by many others. But though much 
geographical information had been gained in the neighbourhood 
of Hudson's Bay, Davis' Straits, Baffin's Bay, and the coast of 
Greenland, yet no channel whatever was found. By act of par- 
liament, £20,000 was offered to the successful individual. But 
though Captain Middleton in 1741, and Captains Smith and 
Moore in 1746, explored those seas and regions, the object re- 
mained unattained. The Honourable Captain Phipps (afterwards 
Earl Mulgrave) was sent out in the Eacehorse, accompanied by 
Captain Lutwidge in the Carcase (Lord Nelson was a boy in this 
latter ship), to make observations, and to penetrate as far as it 


was practicable to do so. They sailed on the 2d June 1773; and 
made Spitzberg'en on the 28th ; but after great exertions, they 
found the ice to the northward utterly impenetrable. Once they 
became closely jammed, and it was only with great difficulty 
they escaped destruction. On the 22d August, finding it im- 
possible to get further to the northward, eastwam, or westward, 
they made sail, according to their instructions, for Eng'land, and 
arrived off Shetland on the 7th September. 

Notwithstanding these numerous failures, the idea of an exist- 
ing passage was still cherished ; and Earl Sandwich continuing 
at the head of the Admiralty, resolved that a further trial should 
be made, and Captain Cook offered his services to undertake it. 
They were gladly accepted, and on the 10th February 1776 he 
was appointed to command the expedition in his old but hardy 
ship, the Resolution, and Captain Gierke, in the Discovery, was 
ordered to attend him. In this instance, however, the mode of 
experiment was to be reversed, and instead of attempting the 
former routes by Davis' Straits or Baffin's Bay, &c. Cook, at his 
own request, was instructed to proceed into the South Pacific, 
and thence to try the passage by the way of Behring's Straits ; 
and as it was necessary that the islands in the southern ocean 
should be revisited, cattle and sheep, with other animals, and all 
kinds of seeds, were shipped for the advantage of the natives. 

Every preparation having been made, the Resolution quitted 
Plymouth on the 12th July (the Discovery was to follow), taking 
Omai, the native brought from the Society Isles, with him. 
Having touched at Teneriffe, they crossed the equator on the 1st 
September, and reached the Cape on the 18th October, where the 
Discovery joined them on the 10th November. Whilst lying in 
Table Bay, the cattle were landed ; and some dogs getting into 
the pens, worried and killed several of the sheep, and dispersed 
the rest. Two fine rams and two ewes were lost ; but the twa 
latter were recovered ; the others could not be got back. Captain 
Cook here made an addition to his stock, and, besides other ani- 
mals, purchased two young stallions and two mares. 

The ships sailed again on the 30th November, and encountered 
heavy gales, in which several sheep and goats died. On the 12th 
December they saw two large islands, which Cook named Prince 
Edward's Islands ; and three days afterwards several others were 
seen; but having made Kerguelen's Land, they anchored in a 
convenient harbour on Christmas day. On the north side of 
this harbour one of the men found a quart bottle fastened to a 
projecting rock by stout wire, and on opening it, the bottle, was 
found to contain a piece of parchment, on which was an in- 
scription purporting that the land had been visited by a French 
vessel in 1772-3. To this Cook added a notice of his own visit ; 
the parchment was then returned to the bottle, and the cork being 
secured with lead, was placed upon a pile of stones near to the 
place from which it had been removed. The whole country was 



extremely barren and desolate ; and on the 30th they came to the 
eastern extremity of Kerguelen's Land. To his g*reat chag-rin, 
whilst exploring" the coast, Captain Cook lost throug-h the in- 
tense cold two young' bulls, one heifer, two rams, and several 
of the g-oats. 

On the 24th Januaiy 1777 they came in sig-ht of Van Die- 
men's Land, and on the 26th anchored in Adventure Bay, where 
intercourse was opened with the natives, and Omai took every 
opportunity of lauding the g-reat superiority of his friends the 
English. Here they obtained plenty of grass for the remaining 
cattle, and a supply of fresh provisions for themselves. On 
the 30th they quitted their port, convinced that Van Diemen's 
Land was the southern point of New Holland. Subsequent in- 
vestigations, however, have proved this idea to be erroneous ; 
Van Diemen's Land being an island separated from the main- 
land of Australia by Bass's Straits. 

On the 12th February Captain Cook anchored at his old 
station in Queen Charlotte's Sound, New Zealand; but the 
natives were very shy in approaching the ships, and none could 
be persuaded to come on board. The reason was, that on the 
former voyage, after parting with the Resolution, the Adventure 
had visited this place, and ten of her crew had been killed in an 
unpremeditated skirmish with the natives. It was the fear of 
retaliatory punishment that kept them aloof. Captain Cook, 
however, soon made them easy upon the subject, and their fami- 
liarity was renewed; but great caution was used, to be fully 
prepared for a similar attack, by keeping the men well armed on 
all occasions. Of the animals left at this island in the former 
voyages, many were thriving ; and the gardens, though left in a 
state of nature, were found to contain cabbages, onions, leeks, 
radishes, mustard, and a few potatoes. The captain was enabled 
to add to both. At the solicitation of Omai he received two New 
Zealand lads on board the Resolution, and by the 27th was clear 
of the coast. 

After landing at a number of islands, and not finding ade- 
quate supplies, the ships sailed for Anamocka, and the Reso- 
lution was brought up in exactly the same anchorage that she had 
occupied three years before. The natives behaved in a most 
friendly manner, and but for their habits of stealing, quiet would 
have been uninterrupted. Nothing, however, could check this 
propensity, till Captain Cook shaved the heads of all whom he 
caught practising it. This rendered them an object of ridicule 
to their countrymen, and enabled the English to recognise and 
keep them at a distance. Most of the Friendly Isles were visited 
by the ships, and everywhere they met with a kind reception. 
On the 10th June they reached Tongataboo, where the king 
offered Captain Cook his house to reside in. Here he made a 
distribution of his animals amongst the chiefs, and the impor- 
tance of preserving them was explained by Omai. A horse and 



mare, a bull and cow, several slieep and turkeys, were thus given 
away ; but two kids and two turkey-cocks having been stolen, 
the captain seized three canoes, put a guard over the chiefs, and 
insisted that not only the kids and turkeys should be restored, 
but also everything that had been taken away since their arrival. 
This produced a good efiect, and much of the plunder was 

Captain Cook remained at the Friendly Islands nearly three 
months, and lived almost entirely during that period upon fresh 
provisions, occasionally eating* the produce of the seeds he had 
sown there in his former visits. On the 17th July they took 
their final leave of these hospitable people, and on the 12th August 
reached Otaheite, and took up a berth in Oaiti-piha Bay, which 
it was discovered had been visited by two Spanish ships since the 
Resolution had last been there. 

Animals of various kinds had been left in the country by the 
Spaniards, and the islanders spoke of them with esteem and 
respect. On the 24th the ships went round to Matavai Bay, and 
Captain Cook presented to the king, Otoo, the remainder of his live 
stock. There were already at Otoo's residence a remarkably fine 
bull and some goats that had been left by the Spaniards, and to 
these the captain added another bull, three cows, a horse and 
mare, and a number of sheep ; also a peacock and hen, a turkey- 
cock and hen, one gander and three geese, a drake and four 
ducks. The geese and ducks began to breed before the English 
left the island. 

They here witnessed a human sacrifice, to propitiate the favour 
of their gods in a battle they were about to undertake. The 
victim was generally some strolling vagabond, who was not 
aware of his fate till the moment arrived, and he received his 
death-blow from a club. For the purpose of showing the inhabi- 
tants the use of the horses, Captains Cook and Clerke rode into 
the country, to the great astonishment of the islanders; and 
though this exercise was continued every day by some of the 
Resolution's people, yet the wonder of the natives never abated. 

On the return of Omai to the land of his birth, the reception 
he met with was not very cordial ; but the aifection of his rela- 
tives was strong and ardent. Captain Cook obtained the grant 
of a piece of land for him on the west side of Owharre harbour, 
Huaheine. The carpenters of the ships built him a small house, 
to which a garden was attached, planted with shaddocks, vines, 
pine apples, melons, &c. and a varietj^ of vegetables ; the whole of 
which were thriving before Captain Cook quitted the island. 
When the house was finished, the presents Omai had received 
in England were carried ashore, with every article necessary for 
domestic purposes, as well as two muskets, a bayonet, a brace of 
pistols, &c. 

The two lads brought from New Zealand were put on shore at 
this place, to form part of Omai's family ; but it was with great 



reluctance that they quitted the voyagerS; who had behaved so 
kindly to them. 

Whilst lying* at Huaheine, a thief, who had caused them great 
trouble, not only had his head and beard shaved, but, in order 
to deter others, both his ears were cut off. On the 3d November 
the ships went to Ulietea, and here, decoyed by the natives, two 
or three desertions took place ; and a& others seemed inclined to 
follow the example. Captain Gierke pursued the fugitives with 
two armed boats and a party of marines; but without effect. 
'Captain Cook experienced a similar failure : he therefore seized 
upon the persons of the chief's son, daughter, and son-in-law, 
whom he placed under confinement till the people should be 
restored ; which took place on the 28th, and the hostages were 
released. One of the deserters was a midshipman of the Disco- 
very, and the son of a brave officer in the service. Schemes were 
projected by some of the natives to assassinate Captain Cook and 
Captain Clerke ; but though in imminent danger, the murderous 
plans failed. 

At Bolabola, Captain Cook succeeded in obtaining an anchor 
which had been left there by M. Bouganville, as he was very 
desirous of converting the iron into articles of traffic. They left 
this place on the 8th December, crossed the line, and on the 24th 
stopped at a small island, which he named Christmas Island, and 
where he planted cocoa-nuts, yams, and melon seeds, and left a 
bottle enclosing a suitable inscription. 

On the 2d January 1778 the ships resumed their voyage north- 
ward, to pursue the grand object in Behring's Straits. They 
passed several islands, the inhabitants of which, though at an 
immense distance from Otaheite, spoke the same language. Those 
who came on board displayed the utmost astonishment at every- 
thing they beheld ; and it was evident they had never seen a 
ship before. The disposition to steal was equally strong in these 
as in the other South Sea islanders, and a man was killed who 
tried to plunder the watering party ; but this was not known to 
Captain Cook till after they had sailed. They also discovered 
that the practice of eating human flesh was prevalent. To a 
group of these islands (and they were generally found in clusters) 
Captain Cook gave the name of the Sandwich Islands, in honour 
of the noble earl at the head of the Admiralty. 

The voyage to the northward was continued on the 2d Feb- 
ruary, and the long-looked-for coast of New Albion was made on 
the 7th March, the ships being then in latitude 44 degrees 
33 minutes north ; and after sailing along it till the 29th, they 
came to an anchor in a small cove lying in latitude 49 degrees 
29 minutes north. A brisk trade commenced with the natives, 
who appeared to be well acquainted with the value of iron, for 
which they exchanged the skins of various animals, such as 
bears, wolves, foxes, deer, &c. both in their original state and 
made up into garments. But the most extraordinary articles 



were human sknlls, and hands not quite stripped of the flesh, and 
which had the appearance of having* been recently on the fire. 
Thieving" was practised at this place in a more scientific manner 
than they had before remarked ; and the natives insisted upon 
being" paid for the wood and other things supplied to the ships ; 
with which Captain Cook scrupulously complied. This inlet was 
named King George's Sound ; but it was afterwards ascertained 
that the natives called it Nootka Sound. After making every 
requisite nautical observation, the ships being again ready for 
sea on the 26th, in the evening they departed, a severe gale of 
wind blowing them away from the shore. From this period they 
examined the coast, under a hope of finding some communication 
with the Polar Sea * and one river they traced as high as lati- 
tude 61 degrees 30 minutes north, and which was afterwards 
named Cook's River. 

They left this place on the 6th June, but notwithstanding all 
their watchfulness and vigilance, no passage could be found. 
The ships ranged across the mouth of the straits in about latitude 
60 degrees, where the natives of the islands^ hj their manners, 
gave evident tokens of their being acquainted with Europeans — 
most probably Russian traders. They put in at Oonalaska and 
other places, which were taken possession of in the name of the 
king of England. On the 3d August Mr Anderson, surgeon of 
the Resolution, died from a lingering consumption, under which 
he had been suffering more than twelve months. He was a 
young man of considerable ability, and possessed an amiable dis- 

Proceeding to the northward. Captain Cook ascertained the 
relative positions of the two continents, Asia and America, whose 
extremities he observed. On the 18tli they were close to a dense 
wall of ice, beyond which they could not penetrate, the latitude 
at this time being 70 degrees 44 minutes north. The ice here 
was from ten to twelve feet high, and seemed to rise higher in 
the distance. A prodigious number of sea-horses were crouching 
on the ice, some of which were procured for food. Captain Cook 
continued to traverse these icy seas till the 29th : he then ex- 
plored the coasts in Behring's Straits both in Asia and America ; 
and on the 2d of October again anchored at Oonalaska to refit ; 
and here they had communication with some Russians, who 
undertook to convey charts and maps, Sec. to the English Admi- 
ralty ; which they faithfully fulfilled. On the 26th the ships 
quitted the harbour of Samganoodah, and sailed for the Sand- 
wich Islands; Captain Cook purposing to remain there a few 
months, and then to return to Kamschatka. In latitude 20 de- 
grees 55 minutes, the island of Mowee was discovered on the 
26th of November ; and on the 30th they fell in with another, 
called by the natives Owhyhee ; and being of large extent, the 
ships were occupied nearly seven weeks in sailing round it, and 
examining the coast ; and they found the islanders more frank 



and free from suspicion than any they had yet had intercourse 
with ; so that on the 16th January 1779 there were not fewer 
than a thousand canoes ahout the two ships^ most of them crowded 
with people, and well laden with hogs and other productions of 
the place. A rohbery having* been committed, Captain Cook 
ordered a volley of musketry and four great guns to be fired 
over the canoe that contained the thief; but this seemed only to 
astonish the natives, without creating any great alarm. On the 
17th the ships anchored in a bay called by the islanders Kara- 
kakooa. The natives constantly thronged to the ships, whose 
decks consequently, being at all times crowded, allowed of pilfer- 
ing without fear of detection ; and these practices, it is conjec- 
tured, were encouraged by the chiefs. A great number of the 
hogs purchased were killed and salted down so completely, that 
some of it was good at Christmas 1780. On the 26th Captain 
Cook had an interview with Terreeoboo, king of the islands, in 
which great formality was observed, and an exchange of presents 
took place, as well as an exchange of names. The natives were 
extremely respectful to Cook ; in fact, they paid him a sort of 
adoration, prostrating themselves before him ; and a society of 
priests furnished the ships with a constant supply of hogs and 
vegetables, without requiring any return. On the 3d February, 
the day previous to the ships sailing, the king presented them 
with an immense quantity of cloth, many boat-loads of vege- 
tables, and a whole herd of hogs. The ships sailed on the follow- 
ing day, but on the 6th encountered a very heavy gale, in which, 
on the night of the 7th, the Eesolution sprung the head of her 
foremast in such a dangerous manner, that they were forced to 
put back to Karakakooa Ba,y in order to get it repaired. Here 
they anchored on the morning of the 11th, and everything for 
a time promised to go well in their intercourse with the natives. 
The friendliness manifested by the chiefs, however, was far from 
solid. They were savages at a low point of cultivation, and 
theft and murder were not considered by them in the light of 
crimes. Cook, aware of the nature of these barbarians, was 
anxious to avoid any collision, and it was with no small regret 
that he found that an affray had taken place between some sea- 
men and the natives. The cause of the disturbance was the 
seizure of the cutter of the Discovery as it lay at anchor. The 
boats of both ships were sent in search of her, and Captain Cook 
went on shore to prosecute the inquiry, and, if necessary, to 
seize the person of the king, who had sanctioned the theft. 

The narrative of what ensued is alfectingly tragical. Cook 
left the Resolution about seven o'clock, attended by the lieu- 
tenant of marines, a sergeant, a corporal, and seven private 
men. The pinnace's crew were likewise armed, and under the 
command of Mr Roberts ; the launch was also ordered to assist 
his own boat. He landed with the marines at the upper end of 
the town of Kavoroah, where the natives received him with 



their accustomed tokens of respect, and not the smallest sig-n 
of hostility was evinced by any of them; and as the crowds 
increased, the chiefs employed themselves as before in keeping- 
order. Captain Cook requested the king to go on board the 
Eesolution with him, to which he offered few objections; but 
in a little time it was observed that the natives were arming 
themselves with long* spears, clubs, and dag-gers, and putting* on 
the thick mats which they used by way of armour. This hostile 
appearance was increased by the arrival of a canoe from the 
opposite side of the bay, announcing* that one of the chiefs had 
been killed by a shot from the Discovery^s boat. The women, 
who had been conversing; familiarly with the English, imme- 
diately retired, and loud murmurs arose amongst the crowd. 
Captain Cook perceiving the tumultuous proceedings of the 
natives, ordered Lieutenant Middleton to march his marines 
down to the boats, to which the islanders offered no obstruction. 
The captain followed with the king, attended by his wife, two 
sons, and several chiefs. One of the sons had already entered 
the pinnace, expecting his father to follow, when the king^s wife 
and others hung round his neck, and forced him to be seated near 
a double canoe, assuring him that he would be put to death if he 
went on board the ship. 

Whilst matters were in this position, one of the chiefs was seen 
with a dagger partly concealed under his cloak lurking about 
Captain Cook, and the lieutenant of marines proposed to fire at 
him; but this the captain would not permit; but the chief closing 
upon them, the officer of marines struck him with his firelock. 
Another native grasping the sergeant's musket, was forced to 
let it go by a blow from the lieutenant. Captain Cook, seeing 
the tumult was increasing, observed, that " if he were to force the 
king off, it could only be done by sacrificing the lives of many of 
his people ;" and was about to give orders to re-embark, when a 
man flung a stone at him, which he returned by discharging small 
shot from one of the barrels of his piece. The man was but little 
hurt ; and brandishing his spear, with threatenings to hurl it at 
the captain, the latter, unwilling to fire with ball, knocked the 
fellow down, and then warmly expostulated with the crowd for 
their hostile conduct. At this moment a man was observed be- 
hind a double canoe in the act of darting a spear at Captain 
Cook, who promptly fired, but killed another who was standing* 
by his side. The sergeant of marines, however, instantly pre- 
sented, and brought down the native whom the captain had 
missed. The impetuosity of the islanders was somewhat re- 
pressed ; but being pushed on by those in the rear, who were igno- 
rant of what was passing in front, a volley of stones was poured 
in amongst the marines, who, without waiting for orders, re- 
turned it with a general discharge of musketry, which was 
directly succeeded by a brisk fire from the boats. Captain Cook 
expressed much surprise and vexation : he waved his hand for 



the boats to cease firings and to come on sliore to embark the 
marines. The pinnace unhesitatingly obeyed ; but the lieutenant 
in the launch, instead of pulling in to the assistance of his com- 
mandePj rowed further off at the very moment that the services 
of himself and people were most required. Nor was this all the 
mischief that ensued; for, as it devolved upon the pinnace to 
receive the marines^ she became so crowded, as to render the men 
incapable of using their firearms. The marines on shore, how- 
ever, fired ; but the moment their pieces were discharged, the 
islanders rushed en masse upon them, forced the party into the 
water, where four of them were killed, and the lieutenant 
wounded. At this critical period Captain Cook was left entirely 
alone upon a rock near the shore. He, however, hurried towards 
the pinnace, holding his left arm round the back of his head, to 
shield it from the stones, and carrying his musket under his 
right. An islander, armed with a club, was seen in a crouching 
posture cautiously following him, as if watching for an opportu- 
nity to spring forward upon his victim. This man was a relation of 
the king^s, and remarkably agile and quick. At length he jumped 
forward upon the captain, and struck him a heavy blow on the 
back of his head, and then turned and fled. The captain appeared 
to be somewhat stunned. He staggered a few paces, and, drop- 
ping his musket, fell on his hands and one knee; but whilst 
striving to recover his upright position, another islander rushed 
forward, and with an iron dagger stabbed him in the neck. He 
again made an effort to proceed, but fell into a small pool of 
water not more than knee-deep, and numbers instantly ran to 
the spot, and endeavoured to keep him down ; but by his 
struggles he was enabled to get his head above the surface, and 
casting a look towards the pinnace (then not more than five or 
six yards distant), seemed to be imploring assistance. It is 
asserted that, in consequence of the crowded state of the pinnace 
(through the withdrawal of the launch), the crew of that boat 
were unable to render any aid : but it is also probable that the 
emergency of this unexpected catastrophe deprived the English 
of that cool judgment which was requisite on such an occasion. 
The islanders, perceiving that no help was afforded, forced him 
under water again, but in a deeper place ; yet his great muscular 
power once more enabled him to raise himself and cling to the 
rock. At this moment a forcible blow was given with a club, and 
he fell down lifeless. The savages then hauled his corpse upon 
the rock, and ferociously stabbed the body all over, snatching 
the dagger from each others' hands to wreak their sanguinary 
vengeance on the slain. The body was left some time exposed 
upon the rock ; and as the islanders gave way, through terror at 
their own act and the fire from the boats, it might have been 
recovered entire. But no attempt of the kind was made ; and it 
was afterwards, together with the marines, cut up, and the parts 
distributed amongst the chiefs. The mutilated fragments were 



subsequently restored, and committed to the deep with all the 
honours due to the rank of the deceased. Thus (February 14, 
1779) perished in an inglorious brawl with a set of savages, one 
of England's greatest navigators, whose services to science have 
never been surpassed by any man belonging to his profession. 
It may almost be said that he fell a victim to his humanity ; for 
if, instead of retreating before his barbarous pursuers with a 
view to spare their lives, he had turned revengefully upon them^ 
his fate might have been very different. 

The death of their commander was felt to be a heavy blow by 
the officers and seamen of the expedition. With deep sorrow 
the ships' companies left Owhyhee, where the catastrophe had 
occurred, the command of the Resolution devolving on Captain 
Gierke, and Mr Gore acting as commander of the Discovery. 
After making some further exploratory searches among the 
Sandwich Islands, the vessels visited Kamschatka and Behring^s 
Straits. Here it was found impossible to penetrate through the 
ice either on the coast of America or that of Asia, so that they 
returned to the southward ; and on the 22d August 1779 Captain 
Clerke died of consumption, and was succeeded by Captain 
Gore, who in his turn gave Lieutenant King an acting order in 
the Discovery. After a second visit to Kamschatka, the two 
ships returned by way of China, remained some time at Can- 
ton, touched at the Cape, and arrived at the Nore, 4th October 
1780, after an absence of four years, two months, and twenty- 
two days, during which the Resolution lost only five men by 
sickness, and the Discovery did not lose a single man. 

By this, as well as the preceding voyages of Cook, a consider- 
able addition was made to a knowledge of the earth^s surface. 
Besides clearing up doubts respecting the Southern Ocean, and 
making known many islands in the Pacific, the navigator did 
an inestimable service to his country in visiting the coasts of 
New South Wales, Van Diemen's Land, New Zealand, and Nor- 
folk Island — all now colonial possessions of Britain, and which 
promise at no distant day to become the seat of a large and 
flourishing nation of Anglo-Australians — the England of the 
southern hemisphere. 

The intelligence of Captain Cook's death was received with 
melancholy regrets in England. The king granted a pension of 
£200 per annum to his widow, and £25 per annum to each of 
the children; the Royal Society had a gold medal struck in 
commemoration of him ; and various other honours at home and 
abroad were paid to his memory. "Thus, by his own persevering 
efforts," as has been well observed by the author of the Pursuit 
of Knowledge Under Difficulties, " did this great man raise 
himself from the lowest obscurity to a reputation wide as the 
world itself, and certain to last as long as the age in which he 
flourished shall be remembered by history. But better still than 
even all this fame — than either the honours which he received 



Vhile living", or those which, when he was no more, his country 
and mankind bestowed upon his memory — he had exalted hini- 
self in the scale of moral and intellectual being* ; had won for 
himself, by his unwearied strivings, a new and nobler nature, and 
taken a hig'h place among the instructors and best benefactors of 
mankind. This alone is true happiness — the one worthy end of 
human exertion or ambition — the only satisfying* reward of all 
labour, and study, and virtuous activity or endurance. Among* 
the shipmates with whom Cook mixed when he first went to sea, 
there was perhaps no one who ever either raised himself above 
the condition to which he then belonged in point of outward cir- 
cumstances, or enlarg*ed in any considerable degree the knowledge 
or mental resources he then possessed. And some Mdll perhaps say 
that this was little to be regretted, at least on their own account ; 
that the many who spent their lives in their original sphere 
were probably as happy as the one who succeeded in rising above 
it : but this is, indeed, to cast a hasty glance on human life and 
human nature. That man was never truly happy — happy upon 
reflection, and while looking to the past or the future — who could 
not say to himself that he had made something of the faculties 
God gave him, and had not lived altog-ether without progression, 
like one of the inferior animals. We do not speak of mere wealth 
or station ; these are comparatively nothing ; are as often missed 
as attained, even by those who best merit them ; and do not of 
themselves constitute happiness when they are possessed. But 
there must be some consciousness of an intellectual or moral 
progress, or there can be no satisfaction, no self-congratulation 
on reviewing what of life may be already gone, no hope in the 
prospect of what is yet to come. All men feel this, and feel it 
strongly ; and if they could secure for themselves the source of 
happiness in question by a wish, would avail themselves of the 
privilege with sufficient alacrity. Nobody would pass his life in 
ignorance, if knowledge might be had by merely looking wp to 
the clouds for it : it is the labour necessary for its acquirement 
that scares them ; an'd this labour they have not resolution to 
encounter. Yet it is, in truth, from the exertion by which it 
must be obtained that knowledge derives at least half its value ; 
for to this entirely w^e owe the sense of merit in ourselves which 
the acquisition brings along with it ; and hence no little of the 
happiness of which we have just described its possession to be the 
source : besides that, the lal3our itself soon becomes an enjoy- 
ment." Let these observations meet with a ready reception 
among youth, in whatever rank in life. Honour and fame are 
not to" be achieved by seeking for them alone, nor are their pos- 
session the end and aim of human existence. It is only by an 
tmwearied striving after a neio and jioUer nature ; only by being 
useful to our fellows, and making the most of those qualities of 
mind which God has given us, that happiness is to be attained, 
or that we fulfil the ends of our being. 



HE liorse is universally acknowledged to be one of 
the noblest members of the animal kingdom. Pos- 
sessing the finest symmetry, and unencumbered by 
,, „ ..^ those external appendages which characterise many 
^^N of the larger quadrupeds, his frame is a perfect model 
^W of elegance and concentrated energy. Highly sensitive, 
^^^ yet exceedingly tractable, proud, yet persevering, natu- 
O^ rally of a roaming disposition, yet readily accommodating 
himself to domestic conditions, he has been one of the most 
valuable aids to human civilisation — associating with man in 
all phases of his progress from the temporary tent to the per- 
manent city. 

By his physical structure, the horse is fitted for dry open 
plains that yield a short sweet herbage. His hoof is not adapted 
to the swamp ; and though he may occasionally be seen brows- 
ing on tender shoots, yet he could subsist neither in the jungle 
nor in the forest. His lips and teeth, however, are admirably 
formed for cropping the shortest grass, and thus he luxuriates 
where many other herbivorous animals would starve, provided 
he be supplied with water, of which he is at all times a liberal 
drinker. He cannot crush his food like the hippopotamus, nor 
does he ruminate like the ox ; but he grinds the herbage with 
a peculiar lateral motion of the jaw, which looks not unlike the 
action of a millstone. Delighting in the river-plain and open 
glade, the savannahs of America, the steppes of Asia, and the 
plains of Europe, must be regarded as his head-quarters in a wild 
state. There is doubt expressed, however, as to the original 
No. 41. I 


locality of the horse. The wild herds of America are looked upon 
as the descendants of Spanish breeds iroported by the first con- 
querors of that continent ; those of the Ukraine, in Europe, are 
said to be the prog"eny of Eussian horses abandoned after the 
siege of Azoph in 1696 ; and even those of Tartary are regarded 
as coming from a more southern stock. Naturalists therefore look 
to the countries bordering on Egypt, as in all likelihood the pri- 
mitive place of residence of this noble animal ; and there is no 
doubt that the Arabian breed, when perfectly pure, presents the 
finest specimen of a horse in symmetry, docility, and courage. 
Regarding the horse as of Asiatic origin, we now find him asso- 
ciated with man in almost every region of the habitable globe. 
Like the dog, ox, sheep, and a few others of the brute creation, 
he seems capable of accommodating himself to very different 
conditions, and assumes a shaggy coat or a sleek skin, a size little 
inferior to that of the elephant, or not larger than that of an Eng- 
lish mastiff, just as circumstances of climate and food require.* 

In a state of nature, the horse loves to herd with his fellows, 
and droves of from four to -QYe hundred, or even double that 
number, are not unfrequently seen, if the range be wide and fertile. 
The members of these vast droves are inoffensive in their habits, 
and when not startled or hunted, are rather playful and frolic- 
some ; now scouring the plain in groups for mere amusement, 
now suddenly stopping, pawing the soil, then snorting, and off 
straight as an arrow, or wheeling in circles — making* the ground 
shake with their wdld merriment. It is im.possible to conceive 
a more animated picture than a group of wild horses at play. 
Their fine figures are thrown into a thousand attitudes; and 
as they rear, curvette, dilate the nostril, paw in quivering ner- 
vousness to begin the race, or speed away with erect mane and 
flowing tail, they present forms of life and energy which the 
painter may strive in vain to imitate. They seldom shift their 
stations, unless compelled by failure of pasture or water; and thus 
they acquire a boldness and confidence in their haunts which it 

* In ordinary systems of zoology, tlie horse is classed with the Pacliy- 
derms, or thick-skinned animals, as the elephant, tapir, hog, hippopotamus, 
and rhinoceros. Differing from the rest of the class in many respects, he 
has been taken as the representative of a distinct family known by the 
name of Equidcs (equus, a horse), which embraces the horse, ass, zebra, 
qnagga, onagga, and dzegguetai. All these animals have solid hoofs, are 
destitute of horns, have moderately-sized ears, are less or more furnished 
with manes, and have their tails either partially or entirely covered with 
long hair. The family may, with little impropriety, be divided into two 
sections — the one comprehending the horse and its varieties, and the 
other the ass, zebra, and remaining members. In the former, the tail is 
adorned with long flowing hair, the mane is also long and flowing, and the 
fetlocks are bushy ; the latter have the tail only tipped with long hair, 
the mane erect, and the legs smooth and naked. The colours of the horse 
have a tendency to dapple — that is, to arrange themselves in rounded spots 
on a common ground ; in the ass, zebra, and other genera, the colours are 
arranged in stripes more or less parallel. 


is rather tinsafe to disturb. They never attack other animalsj 
however, but always act upon the defensive. Having pastured, 
they retire either to the confines of the forest, or to some elevated 
portion of the plain, and recline on the sward, or hang* listlessly 
on their legs for hours together. One or more of their number 
are always awake to keep watch while the rest are asleep, and to 
warn them of approaching danger, which is done by^ snorting 
loudly, or neighing. Upon this signal the whole troop start to 
their feet, and either reconnoitre the enemy, or fly off with the 
swiftness of the wind, followed by the sentinel and by the older 
stallions. Byron has happily described the manners of a herd 
surprised by the arrival of Mazeppa and his fainting charger on 
their pastures : — 

" They stop — tliey start— tliey snuff the air, 
Gallop a moment here and there, 
Approach, retire, wheel round and round, 
Then plunging back with sudden bound, 
Headed by one black mighty steed, 
Who seemed the patriarch of his breed, 

Without a single speck or hair 
Of white upon his shaggy hide ; 
They snort— they foam — neigh — swerve aside, 
And backward to the forest fly, 
By instinct, from a human eye." 

They are seldom to be taken by surprise ; but if attacked, the 
assailant seldom comes off victorious, for the whole troop unite 
in defence of their comrades, and either tear him to pieces with 
their teeth, or kick him to death. 

There is a remarkable difference in the dispositions of the 
Asiatic and South American wild horses. Those of the former 
continent can never be properly tamed, unless trained very 
young, but freqiiently break out into violent fits of rage in after 
life, exhibiting every mark of natural wildness ; while those of 
America can be brought to perfect obedience, and even rendered 
somewhat docile, within a few weeks, nay, sometimes days. It 
w^ould be difficult to account for this opposition of temper, unless 
we can suppose that it is influenced by climate, or rather to the 
transmission of domesticated peculiarities from the original 
Spanish stock. 


As in South America we have the most numerous herds, and 
the most extensive plains for their pasture, so it is there that the 
catching and subduing of the wild horse presents one of the most 
daring and exciting engagements. If an additional horse is 
wanted, a wild one is either hunted down with the assistance of 
a trained animal and the lasso^ or a herd are driven into a corral 
(a space enclosed with rough posts), and one selected from the 
number. The latter mode is spiritedly described by Miers, whose 
account we transcribe, premising that a lasso is a strong plaited 


tliong, about forty feet in length, rendered supple by grease, and 
liaving a noose at the end : — '' The corral was quite full of horses, 
most of which were young ones about two or three years old. 
The chief guacho (native inhabitants of the plains are called 
peons or guachos), mounted on a strong steady animal, rode into 
the enclosure, and threw his lasso over the neck of a young horse, 
and dragg'ed him to the gate. For some time he was very un- 
willing to leave his comrades, but the moment he was forced out 
of the corral, his lirst idea was to gallop oif ; however, a timely 
jerk of the lasso checked him in the most effectual way. The 
peons now ran after him on foot, and threw a lasso over his fore- 
legs, just above the fetlock, and, twitching it, they pulled his legs 
from under him so suddenly, that I really thought the fall he 
had got had killed him. In an instant a guacho was seated on 
his head, and with his long- knife cut off the whole of the 
mane, while another cut the hair from the end of his tail. This 
they told me was a mark that the horse had once been mounted. 
They then put a piece of hide into his mouth, to serve for a bit, 
and a strong hide halter on his head. The guacho who was to 
mount arranged his spurs, v/hich were unusually long and sharp ; 
and while two men held the horse by the ears, he put on the 
saddle, which he girthed extremely tight. He then caught hold 
of the animal's ear, and in an instant vaulted into the saddle, 
upon which the men w^ho held the halter threw the end to 
the rider, and from that moment no one seemed to take any 
further notice of him. The horse instantly began to jump in 
a manner which made it very difficult for the rider to keep his 
wseat, and quite different from the kick or plung-e of our English 
steed : however, the guacho's spurs soon set him going-, and off 
he galloped, doing' everything in his power to throw his rider. 

"- Another horse was immediately brought from the corral, and 
so quick was the operation, that twelve guachos were mounted 
in a space which I think hardly exceeded an hour. It was won- 
derful to see the different manner in which different horses be- 
haved. Some would actually scream while the guachos were 
girthing the saddle upon their backs ; some would instantly lie 
down and roll upon it ; while some would stand without being 
held, their legs stiff and in unnatural positions, their necks half 
bent towards their tails, and looking vicious and obstinate ; and 
I could not help thinking that I would not have mounted one of 
those for any reward that could be offered me, for t?iey were in- 
variably the most difficult to subdue. 

"' It was now curious to look around and see the guachos on the 
horizon, in different directions, trying to bring* their horses back 
to the corral, which is the most difficult part of their work ; for 
the poor creatures had been so scared, there, that they Avere un- 
willing to return to the place. It was amusing to see the antics 
of the horses ; they were jumping and dancing in various ways, 
while the right arm of the guachos was seen flogging them. 

a:necdotes of the horse. 

At last they brought the horses back, apparently subdued and' 
broken in. The saddles and bridles were taken off, and the 
animals trotted towards the corral, neighing- to one another." 

To hunt down the horse in the open plain, requires still 
greater address, and greater strength of arm. According to 
Captain Hall, the guacho first mounts a steed which has been 
accustomed to the sport, and gallops him over the plain in the 
direction of the wild herd, and, circling round, endeavours to 
get close to such a one as he thinks will answer his purpose. As 
soon as he has approached sufficiently near, the lasso is thrown 
round the two hind-legs, and as the guacho rides a little on one 
side, the jerk pulls the entangled horse's feet laterally, so as to 
throw him on his side, without endangering his knees or his 
face. Before the horse can recover the shock, the hunter dis- 
mounts, and, snatching his poncJio or cloak from his shoulders, 
wraps it round the prostrate animal's head. He then forces into 
his mouth one of the powerful bridles of the country, straps a 
saddle on his back, and, bestriding him, removes the poncho, 
upon wdiich the astonished horse springs on his legs, and endea- 
vours by a thousand vain efforts to disencumber himself of his 
new master, who sits composedly on his back, and, by a disci- 
pline which never fails, reduces the animal to such complete obe- 
dience, that he is soon trained to lend his whole speed and strength 
to the capture of his companions. 


The subduing of wild specimens in America, the Ukraine, 
Tartary, and other regions, must be regarded as merely supple- 
mentary to that domestication which the horse has undergone 
from the remotest antiquity. A wild adult may be subjugated, but 
can never be thoroughly trained ; even the foal of a wild mother, 
though taught with the greatest care from the day of its birth, 
is found to be inferior to domestic progeny in point of steadiness 
and intelligence. Parents, it would seem, transmit to their 
offspring* mental susceptibility as well as corporeal symmetry ; 
and thus, to form a just estimate of equine qualities, we must 
look to the domesticated breeds of civilised nations. At what 
period the horse was first subjected to the purposes of man, we 
have no authentic record. He is mentioned by the oldest writers, 
and it is probable that his domestication was nearly coeval with 
the earliest state of society. Trimmed and decorated chargers 
appear on Egyptian monuments more than four thousand years 
old ; and on sculptures equally, if not more ancient, along the 
banks of the Euphrates. One of the oldest books of Scripture 
contains the most powerful description of the war-horse ; Joseph 
gave the Egyptians bread in exchange for horses ; and the 
people of Israel are said to have gone out under Joshua against 
hosts armed with "horses and chariots very many." At a later 
date, Solomon is said to have obtained horses " out of Egypt, and 


out of all lands," and to have had ^^four thousand stalls for 
horses and chariots, and twelve thousand horsemen." Thus we 
find that in the plains of the Euphrates, Nile, and Jordan, the horse 
was early the associate of man, bearing* him with rapidity from 
place to place, and aiding- in the carnag-e and tumult of battle. 
He does not appear, however, to have been employed in the more 
useful arts of agriculture and commerce ; these supposed drudgeries 
being- imposed on the more patient ox, ass, and camel. Even in 
refined Greece and Eome, he was merely yoked to the war-chariot, 
placed under the saddle of the soldier, or trained for the race- 

As civilisation spread westward over Europe, the demands 
upon the strength and endurance of the horse were multiplied, 
and in time he was called upon to lend his shoulder indiscrimi- 
nately to the carriage and wagon, to the mill, plough, and other 
implements of husbandr^^. It is in this servant-of-all-work 
capacity that we must now regard him ; and certainly a more 
docile, steady, and willing assistant it would be impossible to 
find. But it is evident that the ponderous shoulder and firm 
step necessary for the wagon would not be exactly the thing 
for the mail-coach ; nor would the slow and steady draught, so 
valuable in the plough, be any recommendation to the hunter or 
roadster. For these varied purposes men have selected different 
stocks, which either exist naturally, or have been produced by a 
long-continued and carefal system of breeding. In a state of 
nature, the horse assumes various qualities in point of symmetry, 
size, strength, and fleetness, according to the conditions of soil, 
food, and climate which he enjoys. It is thus that we have the 
Arabian, Tartar, Ukraine, Shetland, and other stocks, each differ- 
ing so widely from the others, that the merest novice could not 
possibly confound them. Besides these primitive stocks, a 
thousand hreeds, as they are called, have been produced by do- 
mestication, so that at the present time it would require volumes 
even for their enumeration. In our own country, for example, 
we have such breeds as the Flanders, Norman, Cleveland, Suffolk, 
Galloway, Clydesdale, and Shetland ; and of these numerous 
varieties, as may be required for the turf, the road, the cart, or 
the carriage. All this exhibits the wonderful ductility of the 
horse, and proves how admirably he is adapted to be the com- 
panion and assistant of man, as the latter spreads himself over 
the tenantable regions of the globe. It is to the character of the 
horse thus domesticated that we intend to devote the rest of this 
sheet ; to his intellectual and moral, rather than to his physical 
qualities; to those traits of spirit and daring, of aptitude, prudence, 
memorv, and affection, with which his historv abounds. 


Courage and unshrinking firmness have ever been attributes 
of the horse. The magnificent description given in the book 



of Job, must be familiar to every one : — ^" Hast thou given tbe 
liorse streng-th 1 hast thou clothed his neck with thunder ? canst 
thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? — the glory of his 
strength is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in 
his strength ; he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh 
at fear, and is not affrig-hted ; neither turneth he back from 
the sword ; the quiver rattleth against him — the g-littering spear 
and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and 
rage ; neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. 
He saith among the trumpets, Ha ! ha ! and he smelleth the 
battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting." 
It is asserted that horses with a broad after-head, and the ears 
far asundei', are naturally bolder than those whose head is 
narrow above the forelock. This assertion is in all probability 
correct, for there is no reason why cerebral development should 
not influence the character of a horse as well as that of a man ; 
but much, too, depends upon judicious training. Some, says 
Colonel Smith, habituated to war, will drop their head, pick 
at grass in the midst of lire, smoke, and the roar of cannon ; 
others never entirely cast off their natural timidity. We have 
witnessed them groaning, or endeavouring to lie down when 
they found escape impossible, at the fearful sound of shot, 
shrapnell-shells, and rockets ; and it was painful to witness their 
look of terror in battle, and to hear their groans upon being- 
wounded. Yet many of the terrified animals, when let loose at 
a charge, dash forward in a kind of desperation that makes it 
difficult to hold them in hand ; and we recollect, at a charge in 
1794 — when the light-dragoon horse was larger than at present, 
and the French were wretchedly mounted — a party of British 
bursting through a hostile squadron as they would have passed 
through a fence of rushes. 

The horse, though naturally afraid of the lion, tiger, and other 
feline animals, has often sufficient confidence in a firm rider and 
his own courage to overcome this timidity, and to join in the 
attack. This was conspicuously evinced in the case of an Arab 
possessed by the late Sir Robert Gillespie, and noticed in the 
Naturalists' Library. Sir Robert being present on the race- 
course of Calcutta during one of the great Hindoo festivals, when 
many thousands are assembled to witness all kinds of shows, was 
suddenly alarmed by the shrieks and commotion of the crowd. 
On being informed that a tiger had escaped from his keepers, he 
immediately called for his horse, and grasping a boar-spear from 
one of the bystanders, rode to attack this formidable enemy. The 
tiger, probably, was amazed at finding himself in the middle of 
such a number of shrieking beings, flying from him in all direc- 
tions ; but the moment he perceived Sir Robert, he crouched in 
the attitude of preparing to spring at him, and that instant the 
gallant soldier passed his horse in a leap over the tiger's back, and 
struck the spear through his spine. Here, instead of swerving, 



the noble animal went right over his formidable enemy with a 
frmness that enabled the rider to use his lance with precision. 
This steed was a small gray, and was afterwards sent home as a 
present to the prince reg-ent. 

M. Arnauld, in his History of Animals, relates the following- 
incident of ferocious courage in a mule. This animal belonged 
to a gentleman in Florence, and became so vicious and refractory, 
that he not only refused to submit to any kind of labour, but 
actually attacked with his heels and teeth those who attempted 
to compel him. Wearied with such conduct, his master resolved 
to make away with him, by exposing him to the wild beasts in 
the menagerie of the grand duke. For this purpose he was first 
placed in the dens of the hyenas and tigers, all of whom he 
would have soon destroyed, had he not been speedily removed. 
At last he was handed over to the lion, but the mule, instead of 
exhibiting any symptoms of alarm, quietly receded to a corner,, 
keeping his front opposed to his adversary. Once planted in the 
corner, he resolutely kept his place, eyeing' every movement of 
the lion, which was preparing to spring upon him. The lion, how- 
ever, perceiving the difficulty of an attack, practised all his wiles 
to throw the mule off his guard, but in vain. At length the latter, 
perceiving an opportunity, made a sudden rush upon the lion, 
and in an instant broke several of his teeth by the stroke of his 
fore-feet. The '^ king of the animals," as he has been called, finding 
that he had got quite enough of the combat, slunk grumbling to 
his cage, and left the hardy mule master of the battle. 

As may be readily supposed, the intrepidity of the horse is 
often of signal service in the cause of humanity, commanding at 
once our esteem and admiration. We know of no instance in 
which his assistance was so successfully rendered as in that which 
once occurred at the Cape of Good Hope, and which is related by 
M. De Pages in his ^'Travels Round the Yforld." '' I should 
have found it difficult,'^ says he, ^' to give it credit, had it not 
happened the evening before my arrival; and if, besides the 
public notoriety of the fact, I had not been an eye-witness of 
those vehement emotions of sympathy, blended with admiration, 
which it had justly excited in the mind of every individual at the 
Cape. A violent gale of wind setting in from north-north-west, 
a vessel in the road dragged her anchors, was forced on the rocks,, 
and bulged ; and while the greater part of the crew fell an imme- 
diate sacrifice to the waves, the remainder were seen from the 
shore struggling for their lives, by clinging to the different 
pieces of the wreck. The sea ran dreadfully high, and broke over 
the sailors with such amazing' fury, that no boat whatever could 
venture oif to their assistance. Meanwhile a planter, considerably 
advanced in life, had come from his farm to be a spectator of the 
shipwreck ; his heart was melted at the sight of the unhappy 
seamen, and knowing the bold and enterprising spirit of his. 
horse, and his particular excellence as a swimmer, he instantly 


determined to make a desperate effort for their deliverance. He 
aiig-hted, and blew a little brandy into his horse's nostrils, when 
ag-ain seating himself in the saddle, he instantly pushed into the 
midst of the breakers. At first both disappeared ; but it was not 
long before they floated on the surface, and swam up to the 
wreck, when, taking wdth him two men, each of whom held by 
one of his boots, he brought them safe to shore. This perilous 
expedition he repeated no seldomer than seven times, and saved 
fourteen lives to the public ; but, on his return the eighth time, 
his horse being much fatigued, and meeting a most formidable 
wave, he lost his balance, and was overwhelmed in a moment. 
The horse swam safely to land ; but his gallant rider, alas ! was 
no more." 

Occasionally, there is so much sagacity and affection combined 
with the intrepidity of the horse, that his conduct would do 
4jredit even to the bravest human nature. Like the dog, he has 
been known to swim to the assistance of a drowning creature, 
and this without any other impulse than that of his own g-ene- 
rous feelings. Captain Thomas Brown, in his interesting Bio- 
graphical Sketches of the Horse — a work to which we are in- 
debted for several of the facts here recorded — mentions the follow- 
ing gratifying incident, which proves the possession of something 
more than mere unreasoning instinct : — A little girl, the daughter 
of a gentleman in Warwicjishire, playing on the banks of a canal 
which runs through his grounds, had the misfortune to fall in, 
and would in all probability have been drowned, had not a small 
pony, which had been long kept in the family, plunged into the 
stream and brought the child safely ashore Avithout the slightest 

Although fleetness, strength, and power of endurance are 
strictly physical properties, yet they depend so intimately iipon 
courage, emulation, and other moral qualities, that we cannot 
do better than consider them in this place. Taken separately, 
a greater degree of swiftness or of strength may be found in 
certain other animals, but in none are all these properties so 
fully and perfectly developed as in the horse. And what is also 
remarkable, in him they are improved by domestication, a pro- 
cess which tends to deteriorate them in most other animals. It 
is thus by the unwearied attention of breeders, that our own 
horses are now capable of performing what no others can. In 
1755, Matchem ran the Beacon Course at Newmarket — in length 
four miles one furlong and one hundred and thirty-eight yards 
— with eight stone seven pounds, in seven minutes and twenty 
seconds. Flying Childers ran the same course in seven minutes 
and a half; and the Bound Course, which is three miles six 
furlongs and ninety -three yards, in six minutes and forty 
seconds, carrying nine stone and two pounds. In 1772, a mile 

5 9 


was ran hj Mretail in one minute and four seconds. In the 
year 1745, tlie postmaster of Stretton rode, on different horses^ 
along the road to and from London, no less tlian 215 miles, in 
eleven hours and a half — a rate of above eighteen miles an hour ; 
and in July 1788, a horse belonging to a gentleman of Billiter 
Square, London, was trotted for a vv^ager thirty miles in an hour 
and twenty-five minutes — which is at the rate of more than 
twenty-one miles an hour. In September 1784, a Shetland pony, 
eleven hands high, carrying ^ve stone, was matched for one 
hundred guineas to run from Norwich to Yarmouth and back 
again, w^hich is forty-four miles. He performed it wdth ease in 
three hours and forty-five minutes, which was thought to be the 
greatest feat ever done by a horse of his height. In October 
1741, at the Curragh meeting in Ireland, Mr Wilde eng^aged to 
ride 127 miles in nine hours ; he performed it in six hours and 
twenty-one minutes, riding ten horses, and allowing for mount- 
ing and dismounting, and a moment for refreshment ; he rode 
for six hours at the rate of twenty miles an hour. Mr Shafto, 
in 1762, with ten horses, and Rve of them ridden twice, accom- 
plished fifty miles and a quarter in one hour and forty-nine 
minutes. In 1763 he won a second match, which was to provide 
a person to ride 100 miles a-day, on any one horse each day, for 
twenty-nine days together, and to have any number of horses 
not exceeding twenty-nine : he accomplished the task on fourteen 
horses; and on one day he rode 160 miles, on account of the 
tiring of his first horse. The celebrated Marquis de la Fayette 
rode, in August 1778, from Rhode Island to Boston, a distance 
of nearly seventy miles, in seven hours, and returned in six and 
a half. Mr Huell's Quibbler, however, afforded the most extra- 
ordinary instance on record of the stoutness as well as speed 
of the race-horse, when, in December 1786, he ran twenty-three 
miles round the flat at Newmarket in fifty-seven minutes and 
ten seconds. Hundreds of other examples might be quoted, some 
of them even perhaps more wonderful than those above cited, 
but these will serve at least to show the astonishing fieetness of 
the horse, and to confirm our assertion, that in this particular 
he is not surpassed by any other quadruped. 

The strength and power of draught in the horse is not less 
remarkable than his swiftness. " In London,'^ says Bingley in 
his Animal Biography, '• there have been instances of a single 
horse drawing, for a short space, the weight of three tons ; and 
some of the pack-horses of the north usually carry burdens 
weighing upw^ards of 400 pounds ; but the most remarkable proof 
of the strength of the British breed is in our mill-horses, some 
of which have been known to carry, at one load, thirteen mea- 
sures of corn, that, in the whole, would amount to more than 
000 pounds' weight." Useful as the horse may be to man on 
account of his great natural strength, his utility is increased 
tenfold by the assistance of art, as is well illustrated by the fol- 


lowing trial wliich took place near Croydorij m Surrey :— The 
Surrey iron railway being* completed, and opened for the carriage 
of goods from Wandsworth to Mertsham, a bet was made that 
a common horse could draw thirty-six tons for six miles along 
the road, and that he should draw his weight from a dead pull, 
as w^ell as turn it round the occasional windings of the road. A 
number of gentlemen assembled near Mertsham to witness this 
extraordinary triumph of art. Twelve wagons loaded with stones, 
each wagon weighing about three tons, were chained together, 
and a horse belonging to Mr Harv/ood yoked to the team. He 
started from near the Fox public-house, and drew the immense 
chain of wag'ons, with apparent ease, to near the turnpike at 
Croydon, a distance of six miles, in one hour and forty-six 
minutes, which is nearly at the rate of four miles an hour. In 
the course of the undertaking he was stopped four times, to show- 
that it was not by the impetus of the descent the power was 
acquired. After each stoppage, a chain of four wagons was added 
to the cavalcade, with which the same horse again set off with 
undiminished power. And still farther to show the effect of 
the railway in facilitating motion, the attending Avorkmen, to 
the number of about fifty, were directed to mount the wagons ; 
still the horse proceeded without the least distress ; and, in truth, 
there appeared to be scarcely any limitation to the power of his 
draught. After the trial, the w^agons were taken to the weigh- 
ing machine, when it was found that the whole weight was little 
short of fifty-five tons and a half ! 

The endurance of the horse is also exceedingly great, and 
equalled only perhaps by that of the camel. The elephant either 
breaks down under his ov^^n weig'ht, or becomes infuriated when 
goaded beyond his accustomed powers ; the ox, though extremely 
patient, soon suffers in his feet, or becomes faint through hunger; 
but the horse toils on unflinchingly, till not unfrequently he 
drops down dead through sheer exhaustion. The mares of the 
Bedouin Arabs wdll often travel fifty miles vv^ithout stopping; 
and they have been known to go 120 miles on emergencies, w^ith 
hardly a respite, and no food. In 1804, an Arab horse at Banga- 
lore, in the presidency of Madras, ran 400 miles in the course 
of four successive days, and that without showing any symptoms 
of more than ordinary fatigue. Sometimes our own English 
horses will perform equally astonishing feats, notwithstanding" 
that they carry larger weights, and are more heavily harnessed. 
In June 1827, a gentleman left Dublin, mounted on a small 
gelding, in company with the day coach for Limerickj and 
arrived at Nenagh at six o'clock the same evening, having kept 
the vehicle in view all the time, and entered the town with it, 
riding the same horse. There was a wager of fifty guineas to 
ten that he would not bring the horse alive to Nenagh. The 
animal was, however, none the w^orse for it, after the extraor- 
dinary ride of ninety-five English miles. 



Even the ass, dull and stupid as our bad treatment too often 
makes him, is not without his share of vigour and endurance. 
In 1826, according" to Captain Brown, a clothier of Ipswich 
undertook to drive his ass in a light gig to London and back 
again — a distance of 140 miles— in two days. The ass went to 
London at a j)ace little short of a good gig-horse, and fed at 
different stages well; on his return he came in, without the 
application of a whip, at the rate of seven miles an hour, and 
performed the whole journey with ease. He was twelve and a 
half hands high, and half-breed Spanish and English. 


In submission and attachment to man, the horse is equalled 
only by the dog and elephant. He soon learns to distinguish his 
master's voice, and to come at his call; he rejoices in his presence, 
and seems restless and unhappy during his absence; he joins 
with him willingly in any work, and appears susceptible of emu- 
lation and rivalry ; and though frequently tierce and dangerous 
to strangers, yet there are few instances on record of his being 
faithless to those with whom he is domesticated, unless under the 
most inhumane and barbarous treatment. Colonel Smith relates 
the following affecting incident of attachment in a charger which 
belonged to the late General Sir Robert Gillespie : — When Sir 
Hobert fell at the storming of Kalunga, his favourite black 
charger, bred at the Cape of Good Hope, and carried by him to 
India, was, at the sale of his effects, competed for b}'' several 
officers of his division, and iinally knocked down to the privates 
of the 8th dragoons, who contributed their prize-money, to the 
amount of £500 sterling, to retain this commemoration of their 
late commander. Thus the charger w^as always led at the head 
of the regiment on a march, and at the station of Cawnpore, was 
usually indulged with taking his ancient post at the colour stand, 
where the salute of passing squadrons was given at drill and on 
reviews. When the regiment was ordered home, the funds of 
the privates running low, he was bought for the same sum by a 
relative of ours, who provided funds and a paddock for him, 
where he might end his days in comfort ; but when the corps 
had marched, and the sound of the trumpet had departed, he 
refused to eat, and on the first opportunity, being led out to 
exercise, he broke from his g-room, and galloping to his ancient 
station on the parade, after neighing aloud, dropped down and 

The affection of the horse is sometimes displayed in joyous 
gambols and familiar caresses like those of the dog, though, like 
the man in the fable who was embraced by his ass, one would 
willingly dispense with such boisterous manifestations. We are 
informed in the Sporting Magazine, that a gentleman in Buck- 
inghamshire had in his possession, December 1793, a three-year- 
old colt, a dog, and three sheep, which were his constant 



attendants in all liis walks. When tlie parlour window, wliicb 
looked into the field, happened to be open, the colt had often 
been known to leap through it, go up to and caress his master, 
and then leap back to his pasture. We have ourselves often 
witnessed similar sig-ns of affection on the part of an old Shetland 
pony, which would place its forefoot in the hand of its young" 
master like a dog", thrust its head under his arm to be caressed, 
and join with him and a little terrier in all their noisy rompings 
on the lawn. The same animal daily bore its master to school, 
and though its heels and teeth w^ere always ready for every aggres- 
sive urchin, yet so attached was it to this bo}^, that it would wait 
hours for him in his sports by the way, and even walk alone 
from the stable in town to the school-room, which was fully half 
a mile distant, and wait saddled and bridled for the afternoon's 
dismissal. Indeed the young scape-grace did not deserve one- 
tenth of this attention, for we have often seen old " Donald'' 
toiling homeward with him at the gallop, to make up for time 
squandered at taw or cricket. 

Occasionally equine attachment exhibits itself in a light as 
exalted and creditable as that of the human mind. During the 
peninsular war, the trumpeter of a French cavalry corps had a 
fine charger assigned to him, of which he became passionately 
fond, and which, by gentleness of disposition and uniform doci- 
lity, equally evinced its affection. The sound of the trumpeter's 
voice, the sight of his uniform, or the twang of his trumpet, was 
sufficient to throw this animal into a state of excitement ; and he 
appeared to be pleased and happy only when under the saddle of 
his rider. Indeed he was unruly and useless to everybody else ; 
for once, on being removed to another part of the forces, and 
consigned to a young officer, he resolutely refused to perform 
his evolutions, and bolted straight to the trumpeter's station, and 
there took his stand, jostling alongside his former master. This 
animal, on being restored to the trumpeter, carried him, during 
several of the peninsular campaigns, through many difficulties 
and hair-breadth escapes. At last the corps to which he belonged 
v/as worsted, and in the confusion of retreat the trumpeter was 
mortally wounded. Dropping from his horse, his body was found 
many days after the engagement stretched on the sward, with 
the faithful charger standing beside it. During the long inter- 
val, it seems that he had never quitted the trumpeter's side, 
but had stood sentinel over his corpse, scaring away the birds 
of prey, and remaining totally heedless of his own privations. 
When found, he was in a sadly reduced condition, partly from 
loss of blood through v/ounds, but chiefly from want of food, 
of which, in the excess of his grief, he could not be prevailed 
on to partake. 

On the evening of Saturday the 24th February 1830, Mr 
Smith, supervisor of excise at Beauty, was proceeding home 
from a survey of Fort Augustus, and, to save a distance of about 



sixteen mileSj he took the Mil road from Brumnadrocliit to 
Beauly. The road was completely blocked up with^ and indis- 
cernible amidst the waste of snow, so that Mr Smith soon lost 
all idea of his route. In this dilemma he thought it best to trust 
to his horse, and, loosening the reins, allowed him to choose 
his own course. The animal made way, though slowly and 
cautiously, till coming to a ravine near Glenconvent, v>7hen both 
horse and rider suddenly disappeared in a snow wreath several 
fathoms deep, Mr Smith, on recovering, found himself nearly 
three yards from the dangerous spot, with his faithful horse 
standing over him, and licking the snow from his face. He 
thinks the bridle must have been attached to his person. So 
completely, however, had he lost all sense of consciousness, that 
beyond the bare fact as stated, he had no knowledge of the 
means by which he had made so striking and providential an 

Very similar to the above is the following instance related 
of a hunter belonging to a farmer in the neighbourhood of 
Edinburgh : — On one occasion his master was returning home 
from a jovial meeting, where he had been very liberal in 
his potations, which destroyed his power of preserving his 
equilibrium, and rendered him at the same time somewhat 
drowsy. He had the misfortune to fall from his saddle, but in 
so easy a manner, that it had not the effect of rousing him from 
his sleepy fit ; and he felt quite contented to rest where he had 
alighted. His faithful steed, on being eased of his burden, in- 
stead of scampering home, as one would have expected from his 
habits (which were somewhat vicious), stood by his prostrate 
master, and kept a strict watch over him. The farmer was dis- 
covered by some labourers at sunrise, very contentedly snoozing 
on a heap of stones by the road-side. They naturally approached 
to replace him on his saddle ; but every attempt to come near 
him was resolutely opposed by the grinning teeth and ready 
heels of his faithful and determined guardian. 

The Biographical Sketches, on the authority of which we give 
the preceding, also records the following, as exhibiting a still more 
sagacious solicitude on the part of the horse for his master : — " A 
farmer who lives in the neighbourhood of Belford, and regularly 
attends the markets there, was returning* home one evening in 
1828, and being somewhat tipsy, rolled off his saddle into the 
middle of the road. His horse stood still ; but after remaining 
patiently for some time, and not observing any disposition in its 
rider to get up and proceed further, he took him by the collar 
and shook him. This had little or no effect, for the farmer only 
gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at having his repose disturbed. 
The animal was not to be put off with any such evasion, and so 
applied his mouth to one of his master's coat laps, and after 
several attempts, by dragging at it, to raise him upon his feet, 
the coat lap gave way. Three individuals who witnessed this 



extraordinary proceeding" then went "up, and assisted hirn in 
mounting" his horse, putting the one coat lap into the pocket of 
the other, when he trotted oft, and safely reached home. This 
horse is deservedly a favourite of his master, and has, we under- 
stand, occasionally been engaged in gambols with him like a 

The generally received opinion, that asses are stubborn and 
intractable, alike unmoved by harsh or affectionate usage, is in 
a great measure unfounded, as appears from the following anec- 
dote, related in Church's Cabinet of Quadrupeds. In most in- 
stances their stubbornness is the result of bad treatment — a fact 
that says less for the humanity and intelligence of man, than for 
the natural dispositions of the brute. An old man, who a few 
years ago sold vegetables in London, used in his employment an 
ass, which conveyed his baskets from door to door. Frequently 
he gave the poor industrious creature a handful of hay, or a 
piece of bread, or greens, by way of refreshment and reward. 
He had no need of any goad for the animal, and seldom 
indeed had he to lift up his hand to drive it on. His kind 
treatment was one day remarked to him, and he was asked 
whether his beast Vv' ere apt to be stubborn, " Ah 1 master/^ 
replied he, " it is of no use to be cruel, and as for stubbornness, I 
cannot complain ; for he is ready to do anything, and go any- 
where. I bred him myself. He is sometimes skittish and play- 
ful, and once ran avv-ay from me ; you will hardly believe it, but 
there were more than fifty people after him, yet he turned back 
of himself, and never stopped till he ran his head kindly into my 


Though Providence seems to have implanted in the horse a 
benevolent disposition, with at the same time a certain awe of 
the human race, yet there are instances on record of his recol- 
lecting injuries, and fearfully revenging them. A person near 
Boston, in America, was in the habit, whenever he wished to 
catch his horse in the field, of taking a quantity of corn in a 
measure by way of bait. On calling to him, the horse would 
come up and eat the corn, while the bridle was put over his 
head. But the owner having deceived the animal several times, 
by calling him ¥/hen he had no corn in the measure, the horse 
at length began to suspect the design ; and coming up one day 
as usual, on being called, looked into the measure, and seeing it 
empty, turned round, reared on his hind-legs, and killed his 
master on the spot. 

In the preceding instance the provocation was deceit and 
trickery ; the poor horse, however, often receives heavier incen- 
tives to revenge. Can we blame him when he attempts it in 
such cases as the following ? — A baronet, one of whose hunters 
had never tired in the longest chase, once encouraged the cruel 



tlioiig'lit of attempting" completely to fatigue him. After a long 
chase, therefore, he dined, and ag'ain mounting', rode furiously 
among' the hills. When broug-ht to the stable, his strength ap- 
peared exhausted, and he was scarcely able to walk. The groom^ 
possessed of more feeling' than his brutal master, could not re- 
frain from tears at the sight of so noble an animal thus sunk 
down. The baronet some time after entered the stable, and the 
horse made a furious spring' upon him ; and had not the groom 
interfered, would soon have put it out of his power of ever again 
misusing his animals. 

It is told of a horse belonging to an Irish nobleman, that he 
always became restive and furious whenever a certain individual 
came into his presence. One day this poor fellow happened to 
pass within reach, when the animal seized him with its teeth and 
broke his arm ; it then threw him down, and la}^ upon him — ' 
every effort to get it off proving unavailing, till the bystanders 
were compelled to shoot it. The reason assigned for this ferocity 
was, that the man had performed a cruel operation on the 
animal some time before, and w^hich it seems to have revenge- 
fully remembered. 

The ass, like his congener the horse, is also sometimes influ- 
enced by the most determined revenge. At Salwell, in 1825, an 
ass was ferociously attacked by a bull-dog ; but the poor animal 
defended himself so gallantly with his heels — keeping his rear 
always presented to his assailant — that the dog was unable to 
hx on him. He at length turned rapidly round on his adver- 
sary, and caught hold of him wdth his teeth in such a man- 
ner that the dog was unable to retaliate. Here the dog howled 
most repentantly, and one would have thought that the ass 
would have dismissed him with this punishment; but no; he 
dragged the enemy to the river Derwent, into which he put him 
over the head, and lying' down upon him, kept him under water 
till he was drow^ned. 

Occasionally, the horse displays unparalleled obstinacy, suffer- 
ing himself to be lashed and bruised in the severest manner 
rather than yield to the wishes of his master. In most instances 
there is some discoverable cause for such perversity, though in 
some there appears to be no other impulse save that of a stubborn 
and wilful disposition. We have witnessed a draught - horse, 
w^orking lustily and cheerfully, all at once stand still on coming- 
to a certain spot ; and no coaxing that could be offered, or 
punishment that could be inflicted, would cause him to move one 
step, until he was blindfolded, and then he would push forward 
as if nothing had happened. On one occasion, we chanced to see 
a carter's horse take one of these obstinate fits, when issuing 
from a quarry with a load of stones. The most shameful tortures 
were had recourse to by the carter and quarrymen ; but all to no 
purpose. We believe the animal would have suffered himself to 
be cut to pieces rather than stir one foot. At last the carter m 


desperation threw an iron chain round the neck of the animal^ 
and yoked another horse to the chain ; but no sooner did the 
obstinate brute perceive the intention of this application, than he 
rushed forward; and from that day, the simple jing'ling of a 
chain was quite sufficient to put him out of the sulks. 

For the most part, however, there is some apparent cause for 
these intractable iits, such as the remembrance of a frig-ht, of a 
severe punishment, or of some other injury. Thus we have 
known a riding-horse pass within a few feet of the wands of a 
windmill when in motion ; and yet no force or persuasion would 
induce him to pass them when they v/ere at rest. This seemed 
curious to his master, till told that one day, when the animal 
was grazing" immediately under the wands, they were suddenly 
set in motion, which so frightened him, that in his haste to 
escape he came down, and was stunned by the fall. The recollec- 
tion of this had never forsaken him ; and thoug'h he had courage 
to pass a moving wand, he could never so much as face one that 
had a chance of being suddenly set in motion. Akin to this is 
the following, related to us by a correspondent : — In travellings 
by coach some years ago, we stopped at a country stage to change 
liorses. While this process was going on, we remarked a pecu- 
liar interest to attach to the left-wheel horse, a strong-built, 
though rather hard-favoured and sinister-looking animal. After 
unusual preparations had been made, and amid the leers and 
jibes of a bevy of ostlers and post-boys, who stood by armed with 
whips and staves, the order was given to start. The other 
horses bounded forward, but the left-wheeler instantly squatted 
down on the ground, and there he lay, notwithstanding the 
shower of blows with which he was forthwith assailed from the 
bystanders. It was in vain that they beat, coaxed, and threat- 
ened him — there he lay, sullen and unmoved, till at last they 
were obliged to unyoke him, and supply his place with another. 
This had not been his first trick of the kind ; yet we were told 
that the same horse submitted quietly to be yoked in a g'ig, and 
always proved a steady roadster. Some antipathy had rendered 
the coach abhorrent to him, though he did not pretend to exempt 
himself from other kinds of labour. 

The ascendency which some individuals have over intractable 
horses of this sort is truly wonderful, as the following curious 
instance, related of James Sullivan, a horse-breaker at Cork, 
and an awkward rustic of the lowest class, will show. This 
man obtained the singular appellation of the Whisperer, from a 
most extraordinary art which he possessed of controlling, in a 
secret manner, and taming into the most submissive and tractable 
disposition, any horse that was notoriously vicious and obstinate. 
He practised his skill in private, and without any apparent for- 
cible means. In the short space of half an hour, his magical 
influence would bring into perfect submission and good temper 
even a colt that had never been handled • and the effect, thousrh 



instantaneously produced^ was generally durable. When em- 
ployed to tame an outrageous animal^ he directed the stable in 
which he and the object of the experiment were placed to be shut, 
with orders not to open the door until a signal was given. After 
a tete-a-tete between him and the horse for about half an hour, 
during which little or no bustle was heard, the signal was made', 
and upon opening the door, the horse was seen lying down, and 
the man by his side playing familiarly with him, like a child with 
a puppy dog. From that time he was found perfectly willing to 
submit to any discipline, however repugnant to his nature before. 
The narrator of this account says, " I once saw his skill on a horse 
which could never before be brought to stand for a smith to shoe 
Mm. The day after Sullivan's half-hour lecture, I went, not 
without some incredulity, to the smith's shop, with many other 
curious spectators, where we were eye-witnesses of the complete 
success of his art. This, too, had been a troop-horse ; and it was 
supposed, not without reason, that, after regimental discipline 
had failed, no other would be found availing'. I observed that 
the animal appeared afraid whenever Sullivan either spoke or 
looked at him. How that extraordinary ascendency could have 
he&R obtained, it is difficult to conjecture. He seemed to possess 
an instinctive power of inspiring awe, the result perhaps of a 
natural intrepidity, in which I believe a great part of his art 
consisted, though the circumstance of a tete-a-tete shows, that 
upon particular occasions something more must have been added 
to it." 


Gregarious when wild, the horse retains his sociable dis- 
position undiminished by domestication and bondage. " My 
neighbour's horse," says White of Selborne, '' will not only not 
stay by himself abroad, but he will not bear to be left alone in a 
strange stable without discovering the utmost impatience, and 
endeavouring to break the rack and manger with his forefeet. 
He has been known to leap out at a stable-w^indow, through 
which dung was thrown, after company ; and yet in other 
respects he is remarkably quiet." The same disposition cha- 
racterises less or more every member of the family. Many 
horses, though quiet in company, w^ill not stay one minute in a 
Held by themselves ; and yet the presence of a cow, of a goat, 
or a pet lamb, will perfectly satisfy them. The attachments 
which they thus form are often curious and inexplicable. 

A gentleman of Bristol had a greyhound, which slept in the 
stable along with a very line hunter of about fiN& years of age. 
These animals became mutually attached, and regarded each 
other with the most tender affection. The g-reyhound always lay 
under the manger beside the horse, which was so fond of him, 
that he became unhappy and restless when the dOg was out of his 
sight. It was a common practice with the gentleman to whom. 



tliey belonged to call at the stable fortlie greyhound to accompanj 
him in his walks : on such occasions the horse would look over 
his shoulder at the dog with much anxiety, and neigh in a 
manner which plainly said — "Let me also accompany you.'' 
When the dog returned to the stable, he was always welcomed 
by a loud neigh — he ran up to the horse and licked his nose ; in 
return, the horse would scratch the dog's back with his teeth. 
One day, when the groom was out with the horse and greyhound 
for exercise, a large dog attacked the latter, and quickly bore 
Mm to the ground; on which the horse threw back his ears, 
and, in spite of all the efforts of the groom, rushed at the strange 
dog" that was worrying at the greyhound, seized him by the back 
with his teeth, w^hich speedily made him quit his hold, and shook 
him till a large piece of the skin gave way. The offender no 
sooner got on his feet, than he judged it prudent to beat a 
precipitate retreat from so formidable an opponent. 

The following singular instance of attachment between a pony 
and a lamb is given by Captain Brown : — " In December 1825, 
Thom^as Eae, blacksmith, Hardliills, parish of Brittle, purchased 
a lamb of the black-faced breed from an individual passing- with 
a large flock. It was so extremely wild, that it was with great 
difficulty separated from its fleecy companions. He put it into 
his Held in company with a cow and a little white Galloway. 
It never seemed to mind the cow, but soon exhibited manifest 
indications of fondness for the pony, which, not insensible to 
such tender approaches, amply demonstrated the attachment to 
be reciprocal. They were now to be seen in company in all cir- 
cumstances, whether the pony was used for riding or drawing. 
Such a spectacle no doubt drew forth the officious gaze of many; 
and when likely to be too closely beset, the lamb would seek an 
asylum beneath the pony's belly, and pop out its head betwixt 
the fore or hind legs, with looks of conscious security. At 
night, it invariably repaired to the stable, and reposed under the 
manger, before the head of its favourite. When separated, w^hich 
only happened when effected by force, the lamb would raise the 
most plaintive bleatings, and the pony responsive neighings. On 
one occasion they both strayed into an adjoining field, in which 
was a flock of sheep ; the lamb joined the flock at a short distance 
from the pony, but as soon as the owner removed him, it quickly 
followed without the least regard to its own species. Another 
instance of the same description happened when riding through 
a large flock : it followed on without showing* any symptoms of 
a wish to remain with its natural companions." 

As already remarked, the attachments which the horse will 
form, when separated from his own kind, are often curious and 
inexplicable, showing how much the whole animal creation, 
from man himself to the humblest^ insect, is under the influence 
of a social nature. " Even great disparity of kind," says White, 
" does not always prevent social advances and mutual fellow- 


ship ; for a very intelligent and observant person has assured 
me, that in the former part of his life, keeping' hut one horse, he 
happened also on a time to have but one solitary hen. These 
two incongruous animals spent much of their time together in a 
lonely orchard, where they saw no creature but each other. By 
degrees an apparent regard beg'an to take place between these 
two sequestered individuals. The fowl would approach the 
quadruped with notes of complacency, rubbing herself quietly 
against his legs, while the horse would look down with satisfac- 
tion^ and move with the greatest caution and circumspection, 
lest he should trample on his diminutive companion. Thus, by 
mutual good offices, each seemed to console the vacant hours of 
the other ; so that Milton, when he puts the following sentiment 
in the mouth of Adam, seems somewhat mistaken — 

Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl 
So w^ell converse, nor with the ox the ape." 

We shall close this pleasing section of the horse's history with 
an extract from the Biographical Sketches, which speaks volumes 
for the intelligence and affection of the brute creation : — '^ My 
friend, Dr Smith, of the Queen's County Militia, Ireland, had a 
beautiful hackney, which, although extremely spirited, was at 
the same time wonderfully docile. He had also a fine New- 
foundland dog, named Ctesar. These animals were mutually 
attached, and seemed perfectly acquainted with each other's 
actions. The dog was always kept in the stable at night, and 
universally lay beside the horse. When Dr Smith practised in 
Dublin, he visited his patients on horseback, and had no other 
servant to take care of the horse, while in their houses, but 
Ceesar, to whom he gave the reins in his mouth. The horse 
stood very quietly, even in that crowded city, beside his friend 
Csesar. When it happened that the doctor had a patient not far 
distant from the place where he paid his last visit, he did not 
think it worth while to remount, but called to his horse and 
Caesar. They both instantly obeyed, and remained quietly oppo- 
site the door where he entered, until he came out ao-ain. While 
he remained in Maryborough, Queen's County, vfhere I com- 
manded a detachment, I had many opportunities of witnessing 
the friendship and sagacity of these intelligent animals. The 
horse seemed to be as implicitly oBedient to his friend Caesar as 
he could possibly be to his groom. The doctor would ^o to the 
stable, accompanied by his dog', put the bridle upon his horse, 
and giving the reins to Ceesar, bid him take .the horse to the 
water. They both understood what was to be done, w^hen off 
trotted Caesar, followed by the horse, w^hich frisked, capered, and 
played with the dog all the way to the rivulet, about three hun- 
dred yards distant "from the stable. We followed at a great dis- 
tance, always keeping as far off as possible, so that we could 
observe their manoeuvres. They invariably went to the stream, 



and after the liorse had quenched his thirst, both returned in the 
same playful manner as they had g-one out. 

The doctor frequently desired Csesar to make the horse leap 
over this stream, which mig'ht be about six feet broad. The do^, 
by a kind of bark, and leaping up towards the horse^s head, 
intimated to him what he wanted, w^hich Avas quickly under- 
stood ; and he cantered off, preceded by Csesar, and took the leap 
in a neat and regular style. The dog" w^as then desired to bring 
him back again, and it was speedily done in the same manner. 
On one occasion Ccesar lost hold of the reins, and as soon as the 
horse cleared the leap, he immediately trotted up to his canine 
guide, who took hold of the bridle, and led him through the 
water quietly." 


Horses have exceedingly good memories. In the darkest 
nights they will find their way homeward, if they have but once 
passed over the road ; they will recognise their old masters after 
a lapse of many years ; and those that have been in the army, 
though now degraded to carters^ drudges, will suddenly become 
inspirited at the sight of military array, and rush to join the 
ranks, remembering not only their old uniform, but their own 
places in the troop, and the order of the various manoeuvres. 
Many interesting anecdotes might be recited under this head, 
which place the retentive powers of the horse in a hig^ily pleas- 
ing and creditable light. 

A gentleman rode a young" horse, which he had bred, thirty 
miles from home, and to a part of the countrj^ where he had never 
been before. The road was a cross one, and extremely difficult 
to find ; however, by dint of perseverance and inquiry, he at 
length reached his destination. Two years afterwards, he had 
occasion to go the same way, and was benighted four or -B.Ye miles 
from the end of his journey. The night was so dark that he 
could scarcely see the horse's head. He had a dreary moor and 
common to pass, and had lost all traces of the proper direction he 
had to take. The rain began to fall heavily. He now contem- 
plated the uncertainty of his situation. " Here am I," said he to 
himself, " far from any house, and in the midst of a dreary waste, 
where I know not which way to direct the course of my steed. 
I have heard much of the memory of the horse, and in that is 
now my only hope." He threw the reins on the horse's neck, 
and encouraging him to proceed, found himself safe at the gate 
of his friend in less than an hour. It must be remarked, that the 
animal could not possibly have been that road but on the occasion 
two years before, as no person ever rode him but his master- 
Sometimes the recollection of the horse serves him so well, that 
he will perform actions with as much precision when left to him- 
self, as though he had been under the guidance of his master. 
A Wiltshire gentleman, in 1821, lent a well-bred and fiery mare 



to a friend from town, who had come down to try the Essex 
dogs ag-ainst the Wilts breed of greyhounds. At the close of a 
very fine day's sporfc^ the huntsman had to heat a small furze- 
hrake, and, tor the purpose of better threading* it, the London 
gentleman dismounted, and gave the bridle of his mare to the 
next horseman. Puss was soon started; the ^'halloo'' was 
given. The person who held the mare, in the eagerness of the 
sport, forgot his charge, loosed his hold, and, regardless of any 
other than his own steed, left the mare to run, like Mazeppa's, 
" wild and untutored.'^ But, to the astonishment of all, instead 
of so doing, or even attempting to bend her course homewards 
(and she was in the immediate neighbourhood of her stable), she 
ran the whole course at the tail of the dogs, turned as well as she 
could Yihen they brought the prey about ; and afterwards, by 
outstripping all competitors (for the run was long and sharp), 
she stopped only at the death of the hare, and then suffered her- 
self to be quietly regained and remounted. What renders it still 
more remarkable is, that the animal had only twice followed the 
hounds previous to this event. It is true that her conduct may 
have been influenced by the circumstance, that the brace of dogs 
which were slipped were the property of her owner, and the 
groom had been in the habit of exercising them with her. 

To prove that the notes of hounds have an overpowering in- 
fluence upon horses which have once joined the chase, another 
incident, which occurred in 1807, has often been related : — As the 
Liverpool mail-coach was changing horses at the inn at Monk's 
Heath, between Congleton and Wilmslow in Cheshire, the horses 
that had performed the stage from Cong-leton having just been 
taken off and separated, hearing- Sir Peter Warburton's fox 
hounds in full cry, immediately started after them with their 
harness on, and followed the chase till the last. One of them, a 
blood mare, kept the track with the whipper-in, and gallantly 
followed him for about tv/o hours over every leap he took, till 
Reynard ran to earth in Mr Hibbert's plantation. These spirited 
horses were led back to the inn at Monk's Heath, and performed 
the stage back to Congleton the same evening. 

Horses being highly susceptible in their dispositions, are also 
peculiarly mindful of kind treatment. ^^ This," says Colonel 
Smith, ^' was very manifest in a charger that had been two years 
our own, and which was left with the army, but had subse- 
quently been brought back and sold in London. About three 
years after, we chanced to travel up to town, and at a relay, 
getting out of the mail, the off-wheel horse attracted our atten- 
tion, and upon going near to examine it, we found the animal 
recognising its former master, and testifying satisfaction by rub- 
bing its head against our clothes, and making every moment a 
little stamp with the forefeet, till the coachman asked if the 
horse was not an old acquaintance. We remember," continues 
the colonel, " a beautiful and most powerful charger belonging 



to a friend, tlien a captain in tlie 14:tli dragoons, bong'lit by him 
in Ireland at a low price, on account of an impetuous viciousnessj 
which had cost the life of one or two grooms. The captain wa& 
a kind of centaur rider, not to he flung by the most violent 
efforts, and of a temper for gentleness that would effect a cure, if 
vice were curable. After some very dangerous combats with his 
horse, the animal was subdued, and became so attached, that his 
master could walk anywhere with him following like a dog, and 
even ladies could mount him with perfect safety. He rode him 
during several campaigns in Spain ; and on one occasion, when 
in action, horse and rider came headlong to the ground, the ani- 
mal, making an effort to spring up, placed his forefoot on the 
captain's breast, but immediately withdrawing it, rose vvdthout 
hurting him, or moving till he was remounted." 

The most remarkable instances of minute recollection, however, 
occur in horses that have been accustomed to the army. It is 
told that in one of their ^ insurrections in the early part of the 
present century, the Tyrolese captured fifteen horses belonging 
to the Bavarian troops sent against them, and mounted them 
with fifteen of their own men, in order to go out to a fresh ren- 
contre with the same troops ; but no sooner did those horses hear 
the well-known sound of their own trumpet, and recognise the 
uniform of their own squadron, than they dashed forward at full 
speed ; and, in spite of all the efforts of their riders, bore them 
into the ranks, and delivered them up as prisoners to the Bava- 
rians. " If an old military horse," we quote the Cyclopsedia of 
Natural History, " even when reduced almost to skin and hone, 
hears the roll of a drum or the twang* of a trumpet, the freshness 
of his youth appears to come upon him, and if he at the same 
time gets a sight of men clad in uniform, and drawn up in line, 
it is no easy matter to prevent him from joining them. Nor 
does it signify what kind of military they are, as is shown by 
the following case: — Towards the close of last century, about 
the time when volunteers were first embodied in the different 
towns, an extensive line of turnpike road was in progress of con- 
struction in a part of the north. The clerk to the trustees upon 
this line used to send one of his assistants to ride along occa- 
sionally, to see that the contractors, who were at v/ork in a great 
many places, were doing their work properly. The assistant, on 
these journeys, rode a horse v/liich had for a long time carried a 
field-officer, and though aged, still possessed a great deal of 
spirit. One day, as he was passing near a town of considerable 
size which lay on the line of road, the volunteers were at drill 
on the conjmon; and the instant that Solus (for that was the 
name of the horse) heard the drum, he leaped the fence, and was 
speedily at that post in front of the volunteers which would have 
heen occupied by the commanding- officer of a regiment on parade 
or at drill ; nor could the rider by any means get him off the 
ground until the volunteers retired to the town. As long as they 



kept the field, tlie horse took the proper place of a commanding- 
officer in all their manoeuvres ; and he marched at the head of 
the corps into the town, prancin^r in military style as cleverly 
as his stiffened leg-s would allow him, to the g-reat amusement of 
the volunteers and spectators, and to the no small annoyance of 
the clerk, who did not feel very highly honoured by Solus making* 
a colonel of him ag-ainst his will.'* 

The following" illustration of combined memory and reasoning- 
has often been recorded ; we are not aware, however, upon whose 
authority it orig-inally appeared : — A cart-horse belonging to Mr 
Leggat, Gallowgate Street, Glasgow, had been several times 
afflicted with the hots, and as often cured by Mr Downie, farrier 
there. He had not, however, been troubled with that disease 
for a considerable time ; but on a recurrence of the disorder, he 
happened one morning- to be employed in College Street, a dis- 
tance of nearly a mile from Mr Downie's workshop. Arranged 
in a row with other horses eng-aged in the same work, while the 
carters were absent, he left the range, and, unattended by any 
-driver, went down the High Street, along- the Gallowgate, and 
up a narrow lane, wliere he stopped at the farrier's door. As 
neither Mr Leggat nor any one appeared with the horse, it was 
surmised that he had been seized with his old complaint. Being- 
unyoked from the cart, he lay down and showed by every means 
of which he was capable that he was in distress. He was again 
treated as usual, and sent home to his master, who had by that 
time persons in all directions in search of him. 

In point of sagacity and memory, the ass is nothing inferior 
to his nobler congener, as is shown by the subjoined well-known 
anecdote : — In 1816, an ass belonging to Captain Dundas, then 
at Malta, was shipped on board the Ister frigate, bound from 
Gibraltar to that island. The vessel struck on a sand-bank off 
Cape de Gat ; and the ass was thrown overboard, in the hope 
that it might be able to swim to land ; of which, however, there 
seemed little chance, for the sea was running- so high, that a 
boat which left the ship was lost. A few days after, when the 
gates of Gibraltar were opened in the morning-, the guard was 
surjDrised by the ass presenting himself for admittance. On 
entering, he proceeded immediately to the stable of his former 
master. The poor animal had not only swam safely to shore, 
but, without guide, compass, or travelling map, had found his 
way from Cape de Gat to Gibraltar — a distance of more than two 
hundred miles — through a mountainous and intricate country, 
intersected by streams, which he had never traversed before, and 
in so short a period that he could not have made one false turn. 


The docility of the horse is one of the most remarkable of his 
natural gifts. Furnished with acute senses, an excellent memory, 
high intelligence, and gentle disposition, he soon learns to know 


a:\ecdotes of the horse. 

and obey his master's will, and to perform certain actions witb 
astonishing- accuracy and precision. The range of his per- 
formances, however, is limited by his physical conformation : he 
has not a hand to grasp, a proboscis to lift the minutest object^ 
nor che advantages of a light and agile frame ; if he had, the 
monkey, the dog, and the elephant, would in this respect be left 
far behind him. Many of the anecdotes that are told under this 
head are highly entertaining. 

Mr Astley, junior, of the Hoyal Amphitheatre, Westminster 
Bridge, once had in his possession a remarkably fine Barbary horse, 
forty-three years of age, which was presented him by the Duke 
of Leeds. This celebrated animal for a number of years officiated 
in the character of a waiter in the course of the performances at 
the amphitheatre, and at various other theatres in the United 
Kingdom. At the request of his master, he would ungirth his 
own saddle, wash his feet in a pail of water, and would also bring 
into the riding-school a tea-table and its appendages, which feat 
was usually followed up by fetching' a chair, or stool, or what- 
ever might be wanted. His achievements were generally wound 
up by his taking a kettle of boiling water from a blazing fire, to 
the wonder and admiration of the spectators. Ray affirms that 
he has seen a horse that danced to music, w^hich at the com- 
mand of his master affected to be lame, feignied death, lay 
motionless with his limbs extended, and allowed himself to be 
dragged about till some words were pronounced, when he in- 
stantly sprang to his feet. Feats of this kind are now indeed 
common, and must have been witnessed by many of our readers 
in the circuses of Astley, Ord, Ducrow, and others. Dancing, 
embracing, lying down to make sport with their keepers, fetch- 
ing cane and gloves, selecting peculiar cards, and many similar 
performances, are among the expected entertainments of all 
equestrian exhibitions. 

A few years ago, one of the most attractive of Ducrow's ex- 
hibitions was " The Muleteer and his Wonderful Horse.'' The 
feats of this pair are pleasantly described in a popular journal, 
by an individual who witnessed them in 1838 : — '^ The horse,''"" 
says this writer, " is a beautiful piebald, perfect almost in 
mould, and adorned about the neck with little bells. At first, it 
playfully and trickishly avoids its master when he affects an 
anxiet}'^ to catch it ; but when the muleteer averts his head, and 
assumes the appearance of sullenness, the animal at once stops^ 
and comes up close to his side, as if very penitent for its untimel}^ 
sportiveness. Its master is pacified, and after caressing it a 
little, he touches the animaFs fore-legs. It stretches them out, 
and, in doing so, necessarily causes the hind-legs to project also. 
We now see the purpose of these movements. The muleteer 
wishes a seat, and an excellent one he finds upon the horse's pro- 
truded hind-legs. A variety of instances of docility similar to 
this are exhibited by the creature in succession, but its leaping' 


feats appeared to us tlie Biost striking* of all. Poles are brought 
into the ring", and the horse clears six of these, one after the 
other, with a distance of not more than four feet between ! After it 
has done this, it goes up limping to its master, as if to saj, ^ See, 
I can do no more to-night!' The muleteer lifts the lame foot, 
and seems to search for the cause of the halt, but in vain. Still, 
however, the horse goes on limping. The muleteer then looks it 
in the face, and shakes his head, as if he would say, * Ah ! you 
are shamming, you rogue; arn't you ?' And a sham it proves to 
he ; for, at a touch of the whip, the creature bounds off like a 
fawn, sound both in wind and limb.'' 

One of the earliest equine actors in this country was Banks's 
celebrated horse " Morocco," alluded to by Shakspeare in Love's 
Labour Lost, and by other writers of that time. It is stated 
of this animal that he would restore a glove to its owner 
after his master had whispered the man's name in his ear, 
and that he would tell the number of pence in any silver coin. 
He danced likewise to the sound of a pipe, and told money 
with his feet. Sir Walter Raleigh quaintly remarks, " that had 
Banks lived in older times, he would have shamed all the 
enchanters in the world ; for whosoever was most famous among 
them, could never master or instruct any beast as he did his 
horse." M. le Gendre mentions similar feats performed by a 
small horse at the fair of St Germain in 1732. Among others 
which he accomplished with astonishing' precision, he could 
specify, by striking his foot so many times on the ground, the 
number of pips upon a card which any person present had drawn 
out of a pack. He could also tell the hour and minute to which 
the hands of a watch pointed in a similar manner. His master 
collected a number of coins from different persons in the com- 
pany, mixed them together, and threw them to the horse in a 
handkerchief. The animal took it in his mouth, and delivered 
to each person his own piece of money. What is still more 
wonderful, considering his size, weig^ht, and peculiarity of con- 
struction, the horse has been known to pass along the tight-rope. 
It is recorded that, at the solemnities which attended the weddings 
of Robert, brother to the king of France, in 1237, a horse was 
ridden along a rope, and that it kept balance and moved with 
precision. Our surprise at this rope-dancing faculty may, how- 
ever, be a little abated, when we learn that the more unwieldy 
elephant has actually exhibited the same performance.* 

Even the ass, stupid as we are accustomed to consider him^ is 

* According to Pliny, at the spectacles given by tlie Emperor Germani- 
cus, it was not an uncommon thing to see elephants hurl javelins in the 
air, and catch them in their trunks — fight with each other as gladiators, 
and then execute a pyrrhic dance. Lastly, they danced upon a rope, and 
their steps were so practised and certain, that four of them traversed 
the rope (or rather parallel ropes) bearing a litter which contained one 
of their companions, who feigned to be sick. 


capable of beiii^ taug-ht tricks equally clever and amusing'. Leo, 
in his Description of Africa^ 1556, g-ives the following- account of 
a performance which he witnessed in Egypt: — "When the Maho- 
metan worship is over, the common people of Cairo resort to that 
part of the suburbs called Bed-Elloch, to see the exhibition of 
stage-players and mountebanks, who teach camels, asses, and 
dogs to dance. The dancing of the ass is diverting enough ; for 
after he has frisked and capered about, his master tells him that 
the sultan, meaning to build a great palace, intends to employ 
all the asses in carrying mortar, stones, and other materials; 
upon which the ass falls down with his heels upwards, closing- 
his eyes, and extending' his chest, as if he were dead. This done, 
the master begs some assistance of the company, to make up 
for the loss of the dead ass ; and having got all he can, he gives 
them to know that truly his ass is not dead, but only being* 
sensible of his master's necessity, played that trick to procure 
some provender. He then commands the ass to rise, which still 
lies in the same posture, notwithstanding all the blows he can 
give him ; till at last he proclaims, by virtue of an edict of the 
sultan, all are bound to ride out next day upon the comeliest 
asses they can find, in order to see a triumphal show, and to 
entertain their asses with oats and Nile water. These words are 
no sooner pronounced, than the ass starts up, prances, and leaps 
for joy. The master then declares that his ass has been pitched 
upon by the warden of his street to carry his deformed and ugly 
wife ; upon vv^hich the ass lowers his ears, and limps with one of 
his legs, as if he were lame. The master alleging that his ass 
admires handsome women, commands him to single out the 
prettiest lady in company ; and accordingly he makes his choice, 
by going round and touching one of the prettiest with his head, 
to the great amusement of the spectators." 

This astonishing aptitude in the horse and ass is often directed 
to purposes more immediately useful to themselves. Thus, in 
1794, a gentleman in Leeds had a horse which, after being kept 
up in the stable for some time, and turned out into a field 
where there w^as a pump well supplied with w^ater, regularly 
obtained a quantity therefrom by his own dexterity. For this 
purpose the animal was observed to take the handle into his 
mouth, and work it with the head, in a way exactly similar to 
that done by the hand of a man, until a sufficiency was procured. 
Again, horses have been taught to go to and from water or pas- 
ture by themselves, to open the gate, and otherwise to conduct 
themselves with a propriety almost human. We have ourselves 
known a farm boy, who was too small to mount the plough- 
horses, teach one of the team to put down its head to the ground, 
allow him to get astride its neck, and then, by gently elevating' 
the head, to let him slip backwards to his seat on its back. 
This act we have seen done by the same horse a hundred times, 
and there was no doubt that the animal perfectly understood the 



wishes of the boy, and the use of its lowering* the head for the 
purpose of his mounting*. 


It has been before remarked, that the horse is inferior to none 
of the brute creation in sagacity and general intelligence. In a 
state of nature, he is cautious and watchful ; and the manner in 
which the wild herds conduct their marches, station their scouts 
and leaders, shows how fully they comprehend the necessity of 
obedience and order. All their movements, indeed, seem to be 
the result of reason, aided by a power of communicating their 
ideas far superior to that of most other animals. The neig'hings 
by which they communicate terror, alarm, recognition, the dis- 
covery of water and pasture, &c. are all essentially different, yet 
instantaneously comprehended by every member of the herd; 
nay, the various movements of the body, the pawing of the 
ground, the motions of the ears, and the expressions of the 
countenance, seem to be fully understood by each other. In 
passing swampy ground, they test it with the forefoot, before 
trusting to it the full -weight of their bodies ; they will strike 
asunder the melon-cactus to obtain its succulent juice with an 
address perfectly wonderful ; and will scoop out a hollow in the 
moist sand, in the expectation of its tilling with water. All this 
they do in their wild state ; and domestication, it seems, instead 
of deteriorating, tends rather to strengthen and develop their 

The Rev. Mr Hall, in his '' Travels through Scotland," tells 
of the Shetland ponies, that when they come to any boggy piece 
of ground — whether with or without their masters — they first 
put their nose to it, and then pat it in a peculiar way with their 
forefeet ; and from the sound and feeling of the ground, they 
know whether it will bear them. They do the same with ice, 
and determine in a minute whether they will proceed ; and that 
with a judgment far more unerring than that of their riders. 

Their sagacity sometimes evinces itself in behalf of their com- 
panions, in a manner which would do honour even to human 
nature. M. de Boussanelle, a captain of cavalry in the regiment 
of Beauvilliers, mentions that a horse belong'ing' to his company 
being', from age, unable to eat his hay or grind his oats, was fed 
for two months by two horses on his right and left, who ate 
w4th him. These two chargers, drawing the hay out of the 
racks, chewed it, and put it before the old horse, and did the 
same with the oats, which he was then able to eat. In 1828, 
Mr Evans of Henfaes, Montgomeryshire, had a favourite pony 
mare and colt, that grazed in a field adjoining the Severn. One 
day the pony made her appearance in front of the house, and, 
by clattering with her feet, and other noises, attracted attention. 
Observing this, a person went out, and she immediately galloped 


off. Mr Evans desired that she should be followed ; and all the 
gates from the house to the field were found to have been forced 
open. On reaching- the field, the pony was found looking* into 
the river, over the spot where the colt was lying* drowned. 

The deepest cunning" sometimes mingles with the sagacity of 
the horse, as evinced by the subjoined well-knovv^n anecdote. 
Forrester, the famous racer, had triumphed in many a severe 
contest ; at length, overweighed and overmatched, the rally had 
commenced. His adversary, who had been waiting behind, was 
quickly gaining upon him ; he reared, and eventually got abreast : 
they continued so till within the distance. They were parallel ; 
but the strength of Forrester began to fail. He made a last des- 
perate plunge ; seized his opponent by the jaw to hold him back ; 
and it was with great difficulty he could be forced to quit his 
hold. Forrester, however, lost the race. Again, in 1753, Mr 
Quin had a racer which entered into the spirit of the course as 
much as his master. One day, finding his rival gradually pass- 
ing him, he seized him by the legs ; and both riders were 
obliged to dismount, in order to separate the infuriated animals, 
now engaged w4th each other in the most deadly conflict. 

Professor Krug'er of Halle relates the following instance of 
sagacity and fidelity, which we believe is not without parallel 
in our own country : — A friend of mine was one dark night riding 
home through a wood, and had the misfortune to strike his head 
against the branch of a tree, and fell from his horse stunned by 
the blow. The horse immediately returned to the house which 
they had left, about a mile distant. He found the door closed, 
and the family gone to bed. He pawed at the door, till one of 
them, hearing the noise, arose and opened it, and to his surprise 
saw the horse of his friend. No sooner was the door opened 
than the horse turned round, and the man suspecting there was 
something wrong', followed the animal, which led him directly 
to the spot where his master lay on the ground in a faint. Equal 
in point of sagacity with this was the conduct of an old horse 
belonging to a carter in Strathmiglo, Fifeshire. From the carter 
having a large family, this animal had got j)articularly intimate 
with children, and would on no account move when they were 
2:)laying among its feet, as if it feared to do them injury. On one 
occasion, when drag^ging a loaded cart through a narrow lane 
near the village, a young child happened to be playing in the 
road, and would inevitably have been crushed by the wheels, had 
it not been for the sagacity of this animal. He carefully took it 
by the clothes with his teeth, carried it for a few yards, and then 
placed it on a bank by the wayside, moving* slowly all the while, 
and looking back, as if to satisfy himself that the wheels of the 
cart had cleared it. This animal was one of the most intelligent 
of his kind, and performed his duties with a steadiness and pre- 
cision that were perfectly surprisnig. 

The following manoeuvre, which is related in most books on 


animal instinct, appears to ns rather incredible ; we transcribe 
it, however, without vouching for its accuracy farther than the 
g'eneral circulation it has received : — The island of Kriitsand, 
which is formed by two branches of the Elbe, is frequently laid 
tinder water, when, at the time of the spring-tides, the wind has 
blown in a direction contrary to that of the current. In April 
1794, the water one day rose so rapidlj^, that the horses which 
were grazing in the plain, with their foals, suddenly found them- 
selves standing in deep water, upon which they all set up a 
loud neighing, and collected themselves together within a small 
extent of ground. In this assembly they seemed to determine 
upon the following prudent measure, as the only means of savings 
their young foals, that were now standing up to the belly in the 
:fi[ood ; in the execution of which some old mares also took a prin- 
cipal part, which could not be supposed to have been influenced by 
any maternal solicitude for the safety of the young. The method 
they adopted was this : every two horses took a foal between 
them, and, pressing their sides together, kept it wedged in, and 
lifted up quite above the surface of the water. All the horned 
cattle in the vicinity had already set themselves afloat, and w^ere 
swimming in regular columns towards their homes. But these 
noble steeds, with undaunted perseverance, remained immoveable 
under their cherished burdens for the space of six hours, till the 
tide ebbing, the water subsided, and the foals were at length 
placed out of danger. The inhabitants, who had rowed to the 
place in boats, viewed with delight this singular manoeuvre^ 
whereby their valuable foals were preserved from a destruction 
otherwise inevitable. 

Respecting the intelligence of even the common work-horse, 
the least delicately treated of his kind, Mr Stephens, in his 
" Book of the Farm," speaks in terms of high commendation^ 
^^ It is remarked," says he, " by those who have much to do with 
blood-horses, that when at liberty, and seeing two or more people 
standing conversing together, they will approach, and seem as it 
were to wish to listen to the conversation. The farm-horse will 
not do this ; but he is quite obedient to call, and distinguishes his 
name readily from that of his companions, and will not stir when 
desired to stand, till his own name is pronounced. He distin- 
guishes the various sorts of work he is put to ; and will apply his 
strength and skill in the best way to effect his purpose, whether 
in the thrashing-mill, the cart, or the plough. He soon acquires a 
perfect sense of his work. [In ploughing] I have seen a horse walk 
very steadily towards, a directing pole, and halt when his head 
had reached it. He seems also to have a sense of time. I have heard 
another neigh almost daily about ten minutes before the time of 
ceasing work in the evening, whether in summer or in winter. 
He is capable of distinguishing the tones of the voice, whether 
spoken in anger or otherwise, and can even distinguish between 
musical notes. There was a work-horse of my own, when even 



at his coriij would desist eating", and listen attentively, with 
pricked and moving' ears, and steady eyes, the instant he heard 
the note low G sounded, and would continue to listen so long" as 
it was sustained ; and another that was similarly aifected by a 
particular high note. The recognition of the sound of the bugle 
by a trooper, and the excitement occasioned in the hunter when 
the pack give tongue, are familiar instances of the power of horses 
to discriminate between different sounds : they never mistake one 
call for another." It might also have been added, that work- 
horses seem fully to comprehend the meaning of the terms em- 
ployed to direct them— whether forward, backv/ard, to the left, 
or to the right. A great deal of this gibberish might certainly 
be spared with advantage, as tending- only to confuse the limited 
faculties of the animal ; but still there is no doubt that a horse 
will obey the command to stop, to go on, or to swerve to either 
side, even should its master be hundreds of yards distant. Work- 
horses seem also to anticipate Sunday, perhaps partly from 
memory, and partly from noticing the preparations making for 
it. They are quick observers of any change that takes place 
around them ; they can distinguish the footfall of the person who 
feeds them ; and seem fully to understand, from the kind of har- 
ness put upon them, whether they are to be yoked in the mill, 
in the cart, or in the* plough. Even when blind they w^ill per- 
form their accustomed operations with wonderful precision. We 
knew a blind coach-horse that ran one of the stages on the 
great north road for several years, and so perfectly was he ac- 
quainted with all the stables, halting-places, and other matters, 
that he was never found to commit a blunder. In his duties he 
was no doubt greatly aided by hearing and smell. He could 
never be driven past his own stable ; and at the sound of the 
coming coach, he would turn out of his own accord into the 
stable-yard. What was very remarkable, so accurate was his 
knowledge of time, that though half-a-dozen coaches halted at 
the same inn, yet was he never known to stir till the sound of 
the "Ten o'clock'^ was heard in the distance. 

The manner in which the ass descends the dangerous precipices 
of the Alps and Andes is too curious and indicative of sagacity to 
be passed over without notice. It is thus graphically described 
in the Naturalist's Cabinet : — " In the passes of these mountains, 
there are often on one side steep eminences, and on the other 
frightful abysses ; and as these for the most part follow the direc- 
tion of the mountain, the road forms at every little distance steep 
declivities of several hundred yards downwards. These can only 
he descended by asses ; and the aninials themselves seem per- 
fectly aware of the danger, by the caution they use. "When they 
come to the edge of one of the descents, they stop of themselves, 
without being checked by the rider ; and if he inadvertently at- 
tempt to spur them on, they continue immoveable, as if ruminating* 
on the danger that lies before them, and preparing* for the en- 


eoiiiiter; for they not only attentively view the road, but tremble 
and snort at the danger. Having* at length prepared for the 
descent; they place their forefeet in a posture as if they were 
stopping themselves ; they then also put their hinder feet to- 
gether, but a little forward, as if they were about to lie down. 
In this attitude, having taken a survey of the road, they slide 
dovvn with the swiftness of a meteor. In the meantime, all that 
the rider has to do is to keep himself fast on the saddle, without 
-(checking the rein, for the least motion is sufficient to destroy 
the equilibrium of the ass, in which case both must inevitably 
perish. But their address in this rapid descent is truly won- 
derful ; for, in their swiftest motion, when they seem to have 
lost all government of themselves, they follow the different wind- 
ings of the road with as great exactness as if they had previously 
determined on the route they were to follow, and taken every 
precaution for their safety.'^ 

The preceding anecdotes — which form but a mere fraction 
of what might be gleaned — exhibit some of the principal features 
in the character of the horse, whose natural qualities have been 
matured and greatly developed by domestication. Man has 
trained him with care, for the value of his services ; we wish we 
could add, that he uniformly treats him with kindness and con- 
sideration. "The reduction of the horse to a domestic state/" 
says Buffon, '' is the greatest acquisition from the animal world 
ever made by the art and industry of man. This noble animal 
partakes of the fatigues of war, and seems to feel the glory of 
victory. Equally intrepid as his master, he encounters danger 
and death with ardour and magnanimity. He delights in the 
noise and tumult of arms, and annoys the enemy with resolution 
and alacrity. But it is not in perils and conflicts alone that the 
horse willingly co-operates with his master ; he likewise partici- 
pates in human pleasures. He exults in the chase and the tour- 
nament ; his eyes sparkle with emulation in the course. But. 
though bold and intrepid, he suffers not himself to be carried oif 
by a furious ardour; he represses his movements, and knows 
how to govern and check the natural vivacity and fire of his tem- 
per. He not only yields to the hand, but seems to consult the 
inclination of the rider. Uniformly obedient to the impressions 
he receives, he flies or stops, and regulates his motions entirely 
by the will of his master. He in some measure renounces his 
very existence to the pleasure of man. He delivers up his whole 
powers ; he reserves nothing ; and often dies rather than disobey 
the mandates of his governor." If such be the principal features 
in the character of the horse — and they are universally admitted 
• — the feelings of that individual are little to be envied who ever 
utters a harsh tone, draws a severe lash, or urges beyond his 
speed or strength an animal so willing- and so obedient, and 
whose powers have been so essential to human progress. 



^MA ^ ^^ easterly direction from Eng-land, and separated 
^ tw from it by the German Ocean, lies that part of the 
UJ continent called by the g-eneral name of the Nether- 
4\ lands — a country of comparatively small extent, but ex- 
^^ ceedingly populous, and possessing; a larg-e number of towns 
and cities. It derives the name of Netherlands from its 
consisting of a low tract of level ground on the shore of the 
'? German Ocean, and, from general appearances, is believed to 
have been formed of an alluvial deposit from the waters of the 
Rhine, the Meuse, the Scheldt, and other rivers. In the first 
stage of its formation, the land was for the greater part a species 
of swamp, but by dint of great perseverance, it has in the course 
of ages been drained and embanked, so as to exclude the ocean, 
and prevent the rivers and canals from overflowing their boun- 

The industriously-disposed people, a branch of the great Ger- 
man or Teutonic family, who have thus rendered their country 
habitable and productive, did not get leave to enjoy their con- 
quests in peace. They had from an early period to defend them- 
selves against warlike neighbours, who wished to appropriate 
their country ; and in later times — the sixteenth century — after 
attaining great opulence by their skill in the arts and the general 
integrity of their character, they were exposed to a new calamity 
in the bigotry of their rulers. There now ensued a struggle for 
civil and religious liberty of great importance and interest ; and 
to an account of its leading particulars we propose to devote the 
present paper. 

No. 42. 1 


Divided into a number of provinces^, eacli governed hj its 
own dukej county or bishop, a succession of circumstances in the 
fifteenth century brought the whole of the Netherlands into the 
possession of the family of Burgundy. But in the year 1477^ 
CharleSj Duke of Burgundy, being killed in the battle of Nancy, 
the Netherlands were inherited by his daughter Mary, who^ 
marrying Maximilian, son of Frederick III., emperor of Austria, 
died soon after, leaving an infant son, Philip. In 1494 this 
Philip, known by the name of Philip the Fair, assumed the go- 
vernment of the Netherlands. Shortly afterwards he married 
Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, the joint sovereigns 
of Spain ; and in 1506 he died, leaving a young son, Chaises. 
In this manner, handed by family inheritance from one to an- 
other, the Netherlands became a possession of the crown of Spain, 
although hundreds of miles distant from the Spanish territory. 
Charles, in whom this possession centered, was, on the death of 
Maximilian in 1519, elected emperor of Germany, and, under the 
title of Charles V., became one of the most powerful monarchs in 
Europe. His sway extended over Spain, Germany, Naples, the 
Netherlands, and several other minor states in Europe, besides all 
the colonies and conquests of Spain in Asia, Africa, and America. 
One might expect that the Netherlands, forming as they did 
but a very insignificant portion of this immense empire, would 
suffer from being under the same government with so many other 
states : but Charles V. had been born in the Netherlands ; he 
liked its people, and was acquainted with their character; and 
therefore, while he governed the rest of his dominions with a 
strict and sometimes a despotic hand, he respected almost lov- 
ingly the ancient laws and the strong liberty-feeling of his people 
of the Netherlands. The only exception of any consequence was 
his persecution of those who had embraced the doctrines of the 
Beformation. As emperor of Germany, he had conceived him- 
self bound to adopt vigorous measures to suppress the opinions 
promulgated by Luther; and when, in spite of his efforts, the 
heresy spread all round, and infected the Netherlands, he did his 
best for some time to root it out there also. The number of those 
who, in the Netherlands, suffered death for their religion during 
the reign of Charles Y., is stated by the old historians at 50,000. 
Towards the end of his reign, however, he relaxed these seve- 

In 1555, Charles V., worn out by the cares of his long reign, 
resigned his sovereignty, and retired to a monastery. His large 
empire was now divided into two. His brother Ferdinand was 
created emperor of Germany ; and the rest of his dominions, 
including Spain and the Netherlands, were inherited by his son, 
Phihp II. 

Philip was born at Yalladolid, in Spain, in the year 1521. 
Educated by the ablest ecclesiastics, he manifested from his early 
years a profound, cautious, dissimulating genius : a cold, proud; 



mirtliless disposition; and an intense bigotry on religious sub- 
jects. At the age of sixteen be married a princess of Portugal, 
who died soon after, leaving Mm a son, Don Carlos. In 1648, 
Cbarles V., desirous that bis son sbould cultivate tbe good- will 
of his future subjects of the Netherlands, called him from Spain 
to Brussels ; but during his residence there, and in other cities of 
the Netherlands, his conduct was so haughty, austere, and un- 
bending, that the burghers began to dread the time when, instead 
of their own countryman Charles, they should have this foreigner 
for their king. In 1554, Philip, pursuing his father^s scheme for 
adding England to the territories of the Spanish crown, went to 
London and married Mary, queen of England ; but after a re- 
sidence of fourteen months, he returned to the Netherlands, 
where his father formally resigned the government into his 

Philip spent the first frve years of his reign in the Netherlands, 
waiting the issue of a war in which he was engaged with France. 
During this period his Flemish and Dutch subjects began to 
have some experience of his government. They observed with 
alarm that the king hated the country, and distrusted its people. 
He would speak no other language than Spanish ; his counsellors 
were Spaniards ; he kept Spaniards alone about his person ; and 
it was to Spaniards that all vacant posts were assigned. Besides, 
certain of his measures gave great dissatisfaction. He re-enacted 
the persecuting edicts against the Protestants, which his father 
in the end of his reign had suffered to fall into disuse ; and the 
severities which ensued began to drive hundreds of the most use- 
ful citizens out of the country, as well as to injure trade, by de- 
terring Protestant merchants from the Dutch and Flemish ports. 
Dark hints, too, were thrown out that he intended to establish 
an ecclesiastical court in the Netherlands similar to the Spanish 
Inquisition, and the spirit of Catholics as well as of Protestants 
revolted from the thought that this chamber of horrors should 
ever become one of the institutions of their free land. He had 
also increased the number of the bishops in the Netherlands from 
five to seventeen ; and this was regarded as the mere appointment 
of twelve persons devoted to the Spanish interest, who would 
help, if necessary, to overawe the people. Lastly, he kept the 
provinces full of Spanish troops ; and this was a direct violation 
of a fundamental law of the country. Against these measures 
the nobles and citizens complained bitterly; and from them drew 
sad anticipations of the future. Nor were they more satisfied 
with the address in which, throiigh the bishop of Arras as his 
spokesman, he took farewell of them at a convention of the 
states held at Ghent previous to his departure for Spain. The 
oration recommended severity against heresy, and only promised 
the withdrawal of the foreign troops. The reply of the states 
was firm and bold, and the recollection of it must have rankled 
afterwards in the revengeful mind of Philip. " I would rather 



be no king" at all/^ he said to one of his ministers at the time, 
"than have heretics for my subjects." But suppressing his re- 
sentment in the meantime, he set sail for Spain in Aug-ust 1559, 
leaving" his half-sister, the Duchess of Parma, a natural daug-hter 
of Charles V., to act as his viceroy in the Netherlands. 

The duchess was to be assisted in the g-overnment by a Council 
of State consisting of the six following persons : Antony de Gran- 
velle, bishop of Arras, and afterwards a cardinal ; the Count de 
Barlaimont, Viglius de Quichem, the Count Horn, the Count 
Eg-mont, and the Prince of Orange. Three of these, Gran- 
velle, Barlaimont, and Viglius, were devoted to the Spanish 
interest, and were therefore very unpopular in the Netherlands ; 
the others were men of tried patriotism, from whose presence 
in the council much good might be expected. Granvelle was a 
man of extraordinary political abilities, and the fit minister of 
such a king as the moody and scheming Philip ; Barlaimont had 
also distinguished himself; and in all the country there was not 
so eminent a lawyer as Yiglius. Counts Egmont and Horn were 
two of the most promising men in the Netherlands, and both of 
them had rendered services of no ordinary kind to Philip by 
their conduct in the war with Prance. Of the Prince of Orange, 
the principal personage in this struggle, and the true hero of the 
Netherlands, we must speak more particularly. 

William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, sometimes called William 
I., was born at the castle of Dillembourg', in Germany, in 1533. 
He was the son of William, Count of Nassau, and the heir there- 
fore of the large possessions of the house of Nassau in France 
and Germany, and in the Netherlands. At the age of eleven 
years he had succeeded, besides, to the French princedom of 
Orange, by the will of his cousin Bene' of Nassau ; so that before 
he arrived at manhood, he was one of the richest and most 
powerful noblemen in Europe. William was educated in the 
principles of the Beformation ; but having entered, when quite 
a boy, into the employment of the Emperor Charles V., he 
changed the habits of a Protestant for those of a Boman Catho- 
lic ; and accordingly, at the time at which we introduce him 
to our readers, he was conscientiously a Catholic, although by 
no means a bigoted, nor even perhaps what the Spaniards would 
have called a sound one. The Emperor Charles, who, like all 
such men, possessed a shrewd insight into character, and could 
pick out by a glance the men of mind and talent from among" 
those who came within his notice, had from the first singled out 
the young Prince of Orange as a person from whom great things 
were to be expected. Accordingly, in the employment of Charles, 
Prince AVilliam had had ample opportunities of displaying the 
two kinds of ability then most in request, and which every public 
man of that age, except he were an ecclesiastic, was required 
to combine — diplomatic and military talent. While yet scarcely 
more than twenty years of age, he had risen to be the first 


man in the emperor's reg-ard. And this liking* of Charles for him 
was not merely of that kind which an elderly and experienced 
man sometimes contracts for a fresh-hearted and enthusiastic 
youth ; it was a real friendship on equal terms ; for so hig-hly did 
he value the prudence and wisdom of the young warrior and 
politician, that he confided to him the greatest state secrets ; and 
was often heard to say that from the Prince of Orange he had 
received many very important political hints. It was on the arm 
of William of Orange that Charles had leant for support on the 
memorable day when, in the Assembly of the States at Brussels, 
he rose feebly from his seat, and declared his abdication of the 
sovereign power. And it is said that one of Charles's last advices 
to his son Philip was to cultivate the good-will of the people of 
the Netherlands, and especially to defer to the counsels of the 
Prince of Orange. When, therefore, in the year 1555, ■ Philip 
began his rule in the Netherlands, there were few persons who 
were either better entitled or more truly disposed to act the part of 
faithful and loyal advisers than William of Nassau, then twenty- 
two years of age. But close as had been William's relation to 
the late emperor, there were stronger principles and feelings in 
his mind than gratitude to the son of the man he had loved. 
He had thought deeply on the question, how a nation should be 
governed, and had come to entertain opinions very hostile to 
arbitrary power ; he had observed what appeared to him, even as 
a Catholic, gross blunders in the mode of treating religious diffe- 
rences ; he had imbibed deeply the Dutch spirit of independence ; 
and it was the most earnest wish of his heart to see the Nether- 
lands prosperous and happy. Nor was he at all a visionary, or a 
man whose activity would be officious and troublesome ; he was 
eminently a practical man, one who had a strong sense of what 
is expedient in existing circumstances ; and his manner was so- 
grave and quiet, that he obtained the name of William the 
Silent. Still, many things occurred during Philip's five years' 
residence in the Netherlands to make him speak out and remon- 
strate. He was one of those who had tried to persuade the king 
to use gentler and more popular measures, and the consequence 
was, that a decided aversion g-rew up in the dark and haughty 
mind of Philip to the Prince of Orange. 


Having thus introduced the Prince of Orange to the reader, 
we return to the history of the Netherlands, which were now 
under the local management of the Duchess of Parma. The 
administration of this female viceroy produced violent discontent. 
The persecutions of the Protestants were becoming so fierce 
that over and above the suffering inflicted on individuals, the 
commerce of the country was sensibly faUing off. The establish- 
ment of a court like the Inquisition was still in contemplation ; 
Spaniards were still appointed to places of trust in preference to 


Fleming's ; and finally, the Spanish soldiers, who ought to have 
been removed long* ag"o, were still burdening* the country with 
their presence. The woes of the people were becoming* intoler- 
able ; occasionally there were slight outbreaks of violence ; and 
a low murmur of vehement feeling' ran through the whole 
population, foreboding a general eruption. " Our poor father- 
land/*' they said to each other ; " God has afflicted it with two 
enemies, water and Spaniards : we have built dykes, and over- 
come the one, but how shall we get rid of the other? Why, 
if nothing better occur, we know one way at least, and we shall 
keep it in reserve — we can set the two enemies against each 
other. We can break down the dykes, inundate the country, 
and let the water and the Spaniards fight it out between them." 
Granvelle was the object of their special hatred : to him the}^ 
attributed every unpopular measure. At length a confederacy of 
influential persons was formed to procure his recall ; the Prince 
of Orange placed himself at the head of it ; and, by persevering 
effort, it succeeded in its end, and Granvelle left the Netherlands 
early in 1564. 

The recall of Granvelle did not restore tranquillity. Viglius 
and Barlaimont continued to act in the same spirit. Private com- 
munications from Spain directed the regent to follow their advice, 
and to disregard the counsels of the Orange party; and the 
obnoxious edicts against the Protestants were still put in force. 
About this time, too, the decrees of the famous Council of Trent, 
which had been convened in 1545 to take into consideration the 
state of the church, and the means of suppressing the Reforma- 
tion, and which had closed its sittings in the end of 1563, were 
made public ; and Philip, the most zealous Catholic of his time, 
issued immediate orders for their being enforced both in Spain 
and the Netherlands. In Spain the decrees were received as a 
matter of course ; but at the announcement that they were to be 
executed in the Netherlands, the whole country burst out in 
a storm of indignation. In many places the decrees were not 
executed at all ; and wherever the authorities did attempt to 
execute them, the people rose and compelled them to desist. 

In this dilemma the regent resolved to send an ambassador to 
Spain to represent the state of affairs to Philip better than could 
be done in writing, and to receive his instructions how she should 
proceed. Count Egmont was the person chosen ; because, in 
addition to his great merits as a subject of Philip, he was one of 
the most ]3opular noblemen in the Netherlands. Setting* out for 
Spain early in 1565, he was received by Philip in the most cour- 
teous manner, loaded with marks of kindness, and dismissed with 
a thorough conviction that the king intended to pursue a milder 
policy in the future government of the Low Countries. Philip, 
however, had but deceived him ; and at the time when he was 
flattering' him with hopes of concessions, he was despatching 
orders to the regent strictly to put in force the decrees of the 



Council of Trent, and in all things to carry out the king^s re- 
solute purpose of extinguishing* heresj in the Netherlands. In 
vain did the Prince of Orange and the Counts Horn and Egmont 
protest that a civil war vf ould be the consequence ; in vain did 
the people lament, threaten, and murmur : the decrees were re- 
published, and the inquisitors began to select their victims. All 
that the three patriotic noblemen could do was to retire from the 
council; and wash their hands of the guilt which the government 
was incurring. There were others, however, who, im-patient of 
the inflictions with which Philip's obstinacy was visiting the 
country, resglved on a bolder^ and, as it appeared, less considerate 
mode of action. A political club or confederacy was organised 
among the nobility, for the express purpose of resisting the estab- 
lishment of the Inquisition. They bound themselves by a solemn 
oath " to oppose the introduction of the Inquisition, whether it 
were attempted openly or secretly, or by whatever name it should 
be called ; " and also to protect .and defend each other from all 
the consequences which might result from their having formed 
this league. 

Perplexed and alarmed^ the regent implored the Prince of 
Orange and his two associates, Counts Egmont and Horn, to 
return to the council and give her their advice. They did so : 
and a speech of the Prince of Orange, in which he asserted 
strongly the utter folly of attempting to suppress opinion hj 
force, and argued that ^^ such is the nature of heresy, that if it 
rests it rusts, but whoever rubs it whets it," had the effect of in- 
clining the regent to mitigate the ferocity of her former edicts. 
Meanwhile the confederates v/ere becoming bolder and more 
numerous. Assembling in great numbers at Brussels, they walked 
in procession through the streets to the palace of the regent, 
v/here they were admitted to an interview. In reply to their 
petition, she said that she was very vvilling to send one or more 
persons to Spain to lay the complaints before the king. Obliged 
to be content v/ith this answer, the confederates withdrew. 
Next day three hundred of them met at a grand entertainment 
given to them by one of their number. Among* other things, it 
was debated what name they should assume. '^ Oh," said one of 
them, " did you not hear the Count de Barlaimont yesterday 
whisper to the regent, when he was standing by her side, that 
she need not be afraid ' of such a set of beggars ?^ Let us call our- 
selves The Beggars ; we could not find a better name." The pro- 
posal was enthusiastically a greed to ; and, amid deafening uproar, 
the whole company filled and shattered their glasses to the toast, 
Long live the Beggars ! (Gueiix.) In the full spirit of the freak, 
the host sent out for a beggar's wallet and a wooden bowl ; and 
slinging the wallet across his back amidst clamours of applause, 
he drank from the bowl, and declared he would lose life and for- 
tune for the great cause of the Beggars. The bowl went round, 
and all made the same enthusiastic declaration. From that day 


the Gueuxj or Begg'ars, became the name of the faction ; and 
every one wore the wallet; or some other symbol of mendi- 

While the nobles and influential persons were thus preparing- 
to co-operate, in case of a collision with the Spanish government, 
a sudden and disastrous movement occurred among* the lower 
classes. In times of g-eneral excitement, it frequently happens 
that malice or accident casts abroad among* the people some wild 
and incredible rumour; such was the case on the present occasion. 
Intelligence spread with rapidity through the towns and cities of 
Flanders that the regent had given her permission for the public 
exercise of the Protestant form of worship ; multitudes poured 
out into the fields after their preachers ; congregations of many 
thousands assembled; and the local authorities found themselves 
joow^erless. A great proportion of these congregations were doubt- 
less pious and peacefully-disposed Protestants ; but taking advan- 
tage of the ferment, many idle and disorderly persons joined them, 
and by their efforts the general cause was disgraced. In Tournej^, 
Ypres, Valenciennes, and other towns, the mob of real or assumed 
Protestants broke into the churches, and destro^^ed the altars 
and all the symbols of worship in the Roman Catholic ritual. 
Antwerp was for some time protected from similar outrages by 
the presence of the Prince of Orange ; but when he was sum- 
moned by the regent to Brussels, the fury of the people broke 
out unrestrained. The great cathedral was the principal object 
of their dislike. Rushing to it in thousands, they shattered the 
painted windows with stones, tore down the images, and dashed 
them against the pavement; slit up the splendid pictures, and 
broke in pieces the large organ, then believed to be the finest in 
Europe. For many days the Iconoclasts, or Image-breakers, as 
they were called, continued their ravages in almost all the towns 
of Flanders and Brabant. The contagion was spreading like- 
wise in Zealand and Holland, and more than 400 churches had 
been destroyed, when the Prince of Orange, Counts Egmont 
and Plorn, and other patriotic noblemen, then at Brussels in 
consultation with the regent, both vexed at the outrages them- 
selves, and fearful that the cause of liberty in the Netherlands 
might suffer from them, hastened into their respective provinces, 
and partly by force, partly by persuasion, succeeded in restoring 
order. It is deeply to be regretted that such excesses should 
have stained the sacred cause of liberty; but this was an age 
when little was known of religious toleration, the uppermost 
sect, whatever it was, making it almost a duty to oppress the 
others. For these outrages, we presume, the Protestants of the 
Netherlands in the present day are as sorry as are the Roman 
Catholics for the unjustifiable cruelties perpetrated in their 

After the interview between the Gueux and the regent men- 
tioned above, an ambassador had been sent to Philip in Spain to 



detail grievances. Instead of deferring* to his representations^ 
Philip and his counsellorSj one of whom was Granvelle^ were 
resolutely preparing* means to crush the confederacy, and break 
the proud spirit of the Netherlands. Secret orders were given 
for the collection of troops ; the regent was to be instructed to 
amuse the patriots until the means of punishing them were ready ; 
and in a short time, it was hoped, there would no longer be a 
patriot or a heretic in the Low Countries. It is easy to conceive 
with what rage and bitterness of heart Philip, while indulging 
these dreams, must have received intelligence of the terrible 
doings of the Iconoclasts. But, as cautious and dissimulating as 
he was obstinate and revengeful, he concealed his intentions in 
the meantime, announced them to the regent only in secret 
letters and despatches, and held out hopes in public to the 
patriots and the people of the Netherlands that he was soon to 
pay them a visit in person to inquire into the condition of affairs. 

It has never been clearly ascertained by what means it was 
that the Prince of Orange contrived to obtain intelligence of 
Philip's most secret plans and purposes ; but certain it is that 
nothing passed in the cabinet at Madrid which did not find its 
way to the ears of the prince. Philip^s intentions with regard to 
the Netherlands became known to him by means of a letter to 
the regent from the Spanish ambassador at Paris, a copy of 
which he had procured. The prince had hitherto endeavoured 
to act as a loyal subject ; but this letter made it plain that it 
was time to be making preparations for a decided rupture. His 
first stej) therefore was to hold a conference with four other 
noblemen ; namely, his brother, Louis of Nassau, and the Counts 
Egmont, Horn, and Hoogstraten. He laid the letter before 
them, and the effect was as might have been expected on all 
of them, except Count Egmont ; for, by some infatuation, this 
nobleman, mindful of the kindness he had experienced from 
Philip when visiting him as ambassador, persisted in believing 
that the king's designs were really conciliatory. In vain the 
prince argued with him ; the count would not be convinced, and 
the conference was broken up. Meantime the people, warned 
by the prince of the approach of an army, began to emigrate in 
great numbers ; and, after >vaiting to the last moment, William 
himself, in April 1567, withdrew with his family to his estates 
in Germany. Most earnestly did he try to persuade Count 
Egmont to accompany him ; but his intreaties were to no pur- 
pose ; and he left him with these words — " I tell you, Egmont, 
you are a bridge by which the Spaniards will come into this 
country ; they will pass over you, and then break you down.'^ 

The man whom Philip had sent into the Netherlands at the 
head of the army as the fit instrument of his purposes of ven- 
geance, was the Duke of Alva, a personage who united the most 
consummate military skill with the disposition of a ruffian, ready 
to undertake any enterprise, however base. Such was the man 
6 9 


v/hoj at the ag-e of sixty, in the month of August 1567, made his 
entry into the Netherlands by the province of Luxemburg", at the 
head of an army of fifteen thousand men. One of his first acts, 
after arriving at Brussels, was to seize the Counts Egmont and 
Horn, and send them prisoners to Ghent. This and other acts 
convinced the Duchess of Parma that she was no longer the real 
regent of the Netherlands ; and accordingly, having asked and 
obtained leave to resign, she quitted the country early in 1568^ 
Alva assuming the government instead. 

Now that a grand struggle was to ensue in the Netherlands, 
we trust our readers clearly understand what it was about. On 
the one hand was a nation of quiet, orderly people, industrious 
in a high degree, prosperous in their commerce, and disposed to 
remain peaceful subjects of a foreign monarch : all they asked 
was to be let alone, and to be allowed to worship God in the way 
they preferred. On the other hand was a sovereig-n, who, un- 
thankful for the blessing of reigning over such a happy and 
well-disposed nation, and stimulated by passion and bigotry, re- 
solved on compelling them all to be Catholics. 


Alva was a suitable instrument to work out Philip's designs. 
Supported by a powerful army, he was unscrupulous in his per- 
secution. Blood was shed like water ; the scaffolds were crowded 
with victims ; the prisons filled with men in all the agonies of 
suspense. He appointed a court, called the Court of Tumults, to 
investigate with rigour into past offences. The Inquisition also 
pursued its diabolical vocation without opposition or disguise, 
covering the land with its black and baleful shadow. Here- 
tics hid their heads, glad if present conformity would save 
them from the tortures which others were enduring for actions 
which they had thought forgotten. Above 18,000 persons in 
all are said to have suffered death by Alva's orders. And 
thousands more fled from the country, dispersing themselves 
through France and Germany ; many of them also finding an 
asylum in England, into which, being kindly received by Queen 
Elizabeth, they carried those arts and habits which had raised 
the Flemings high among commercial nations, and which at 
once incorporated themselves with the genial civilisation of 
England. The Prince of Orange was declared a rebel ; and his 
eldest son, the Count de Bur en, then a student at the university 
of Louvain, was seized and sent a prisoner into Spain. But 
perhaps the most sig-nal act of cruelty in the beginning of Alva's 
regency was the execution of the Counts Egmont and Horn. 
After an imprisonment of nine months, these unfortunate noble- 
men were brought to a mock trial, and beheaded at Brussels. 
So popular were they, and so universal was the sympathy for 
their fate, that even the presence of the executioner, and of the 
spies who surrounded the scaffold, could not prevent the citizens 



of Brussels from dipping* their handkerchiefs in the blood; and 
treasuring" them up as relics. 

The Prince of Orange, residing on his family estates of Nassau 
in Germany, was attentively observing all that was going' on in 
the Netherlands, and making diligent preparations for an at- 
tempt in their behalf. He entered into communication with 
Elizabeth, queen of England, with the leaders of the Huguenots 
in France, and with the various Protestant princes of Germany; 
and from all of these he received either actual assistance in men 
and money, or the promise of future support. To meet the ex- 
penses of the expedition he was fitting out, he sold his plate and 
furniture, and incurred debts on his estates. Having at length 
assembled a considerable force, he divided it into four armies, 
each of which was to march into the Netherlands by a different 
route. Before setting out, however, he thought it necessary to 
publish a manifesto to the world, in justification of a step so 
serious as engaging in hostilities with the forces of one whom he 
had hitherto acknowledged, and still wished to acknowledge, as 
his sovereign. In this manifesto, also, he made it known that 
he had changed his religious views : although hitherto a Catholic, 
he was now convinced that the doctrines of the Protestants were 
more agreeable to Scripture. 

The issue of this first attempt was unfortunate. In several en- 
gagements with the enemy, the different bands of patriots were 
successful. In one of them, Count Adolphus, a brother of the 
Prince of Orange, was killed in the moment of victory ; but at 
last Alva himself hurrying down to the frontier, the provisions 
of the princess army beginning to fail, and winter drawing near, 
they were compelled to retire. The prince and his brother Count 
Louis led the remains of their army into France, to assist the Hu- 
guenots in the meantime, until there should be a better opening 
into the Netherlands. Alva, prouder of this success than he had 
heen of any of his former victories, returned to Flanders, and 
caused medals to be struck and monuments to be raised in com- 
memoration of it, and, what was most offensive to all the people, 
a brass statue of himself, in a heroic attitude, to be erected at 
Antwerp. Delivered now from the fear of any interruption from 
the Prince of Orange, he resumed his exactions and his cruelties ; 
and for four years he and the Inquisition carried on the work of 
persecution and.blood. To detail the history of these four years 
of tyranny is impossible ; we can but sketch the line of the prin- 
cipal events, and show how the minds of the people were ripened 
for the final struggle. 

The Duke of Alva was greatly in want of money to pay his 
troops, maintain the fortifications of the various towns, and carry 
on his government; and Alva was not the man to respect, even 
if the times had been less disturbed than they were, the ancient 
right which the people of the Netherlands claimed of taxing 
themselves through their Assembly of States. Accordingly, with 



-a soldier-like impatience of indirect taxation, he determined to 
accumulate a vast sum of money bj a very summary process. 
He imposed three taxes : the lirst an immediate tax of one 
per cent, on all property, personal or real; the second an an- 
nual tax of twenty per cent, on all heritable property ] and the 
third a tax of ten per cent, on every sale or transfer of g-oods. 
Crushed and broken-spirited by all that they had already endured, 
the burghers stood utterly aghast at this new infliction. Persecu- 
tion for religion's sake was hard to bear, and the Inquisition was 
very obnoxious, still it was but a portion of the population that 
actually suffered personally in such cases ; but here was a visita- 
tion which came home to every Fleming and every Dutchman, 
and seemed but a prelude of utter ruin. Three such taxes as these 
of Governor Alva were never heard of within the memory of man. 
Utterly amazed and bewildered at first, the burghers at length 
■tried to argue, and singled out the third of the taxes as the spe- 
cial subject of their representations. A tax of ten per cent, on sales 
of goods would amount in many cases, they said, to the value 
of the commodities themselves ; since the same commodities were 
often transferred from one person to another, and from him 
to a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, before they came into the 
hands of the consumer. In vain did the states make these re- 
monstrances ; in vain did Viglius, the president of the council, 
second them ; in vain even did the states offer to pay a large sum 
in lieu of the proposed taxes. Alva was inexorable. At length 
the general convention of the states, after procuring a few paltry 
concessions, was obliged to yield to the imposition of the taxes : 
on this condition, however, that all the states, without exception, 
should give in their adherence. This was a condition, as it 
proved, of singular importance ; for, gifted with greater boldness 
and resolution than the other provinces, Utrecht refused to com- 
ply with the governor's demands ; and, by nobly persevering in its 
resistance, not only raised a more determined spirit in the other 
provinces, but delayed the collection of the taxes so long, that in 
the meantime Alva received instructions from Spain to desist 
from measures calculated to produce such dangerous results. 
Alva's conduct, however, had already produced its effects ; and 
the people of the Netherlands had come to detest the very name 
of Spain. 

The Prince of Orange, who, after a short period of military 
service on the side of the Protestants in France, had returned to 
his estates in Germany, was earnestly intent on the condition 
of affairs in the Netherlands. All that could be done, however, 
was to harass the Spaniards as much as possible in the mean- 
time, and enter into negotiations with the Protestant powers of 
■other countries, with a view to obtain the means necessary for 
a bolder conflict. Both these courses of action were adopted 
by William ; and it is a remarkable characteristic of his whole 
life, that even when he is least heard of, he was busy in secret. 



While others were marching* hither and thither, and performing 
heroic actions, they were but doing* the errands on which he 
had sent them : it was he who, whether living in retirement in 
his castle in Nassau, or advancing into the Netherlands by the 
German frontier, or hovering in his ship on the coasts of Holland 
and Zealand, was really at the centre of affairs, directing all the 
movements that were going on, arranging everything, foreseeing 
everything, taking charge of everything. Of William's military 
actions — his battles by sea and land— we hear much ; but his real 
greatness consisted in his prudence, his decision, his fertility in 
stratagem, his statesmanlike width of view, his vast knowledge 
of men and of the state of Europe at the time ; and these are 
qualities which make less noise in history. This peculiarity in 
the life of the Prince of Orange makes the name of William The 
Taciturn, which his contemporaries gave him, on account of the 
sparing use he made of speech, doubly signiiicant. The mode of 
harassing Alva which the prince resolved upon at the period at 
vvhich we have now arrived, was that of stationing a fleet of 
cruisers along the coasts of Zealand and Holland, for the purpose 
not only of capturing Spanish vessels, but also of seizing on 
advantageous positions along the shore. Nor was it difficult to 
obtain such a fleet. The unheard-of severities of Alva's regency 
had driven numbers of merchants with their ships into the ports 
of England. For some time the politic Elizabeth permitted them 
safe harbour and free commerce ; but at last, to prevent an open 
rupture with Philip, she forbade their reception. Compelled 
thus to. make the sea their home, the Dutch and Flemish mer- 
chants banded together, and placed themselves under the direc- 
tion of the Prince of Orange, who commissioned them in the 
service of the Netherlands, authorising them to capture all 
Spanish vessels for their own profit, except a fifth part of the 
prize-money, which William was to receive and apply for the 
good of the Netherlands. As another means of collecting a suffi- 
cient sum of money for future necessities, William came to an 
understanding with the itinerant Protestant preachers, who, even 
during the fiercest paroxysms of Alva's cruelty and the zeal of 
the new Inquisition, continued to walk through the country in 
disguise, teaching and consoling the people. These preachers 
William converted into civil functionaries, employing them to 
ask and receive contributions from the Protestant part of the 
community, now larger in many localities than the Catholic. 
Thus was William providing, as well as he could, that prime 
necessary in all enterprises— money. 

Alva, enraged at the news he had received of \he great damage 
done to the Spanish shipping by the Dutch and Flemish vessels 
that swarmed on the coasts of Holland and Zealand, and doubly 
enraged when he heard that men had actually landed from 
several of these vessels, and taken a fort on the island of Bommel, 
issued an immediate order for the collection of the taxes he had 



previously imposed^ money being* now more necessary tlian 
ever. The people, however, protested that they were reduced 
to beggary abeady, and had no means of satisfying his de- 
mands ; and he had just erected seventeen gibbets in front of 
seventeen of the principal houses in Brussels, with the intention 
of hanging seventeen of the principal burgesses thereon, in order 
to terrify the rest into submission, when, after all was ve^dj, 
and the very nooses had been made on the ends of the ropes, 
the news came into the town that the Dutch and Flemish ves- 
sels, under the bold and savage Count de la Marck, had made 
a descent on the island of Yoorn and taken the town of Brille, 
which was reckoned one of the keys of the Netherlands. Alva was 
amazed : he had not time even to hang the seventeen burgesses. 
A council was held, and the Count de Bossut despatched with a 
body of Spanish troops to the island of Voorn. Bossut laid siege 
to Brille, and was in hopes of being able to reduce it with his 
artillery, when one of the townsmen swimming along a canal 
till he came to a sluice which the Spaniards had overlooked, 
broke it, and let in such a deluge of water as overflowed the 
artillery, drowned a number of the Spaniards, and forced the 
rest to take to their ships, all wet and dripping as they were. 
This victory roused a determined spirit of resolution among the 
inhabitants of Holland and Zealand. The town of Flushing set 
the example ; the towns of Dort, Gouda, Haarlem, and Ley den 
followed. In a short time all the towns of the two maritime 
provinces, except Amsterdam and Middleburg, had risen up 
and expelled their garrisons. In the provinces of Utrecht, 
Friesland, and Overyssel, similar risings took place. In this 
general movement the Protestants, unable to resist the oppor- 
tunity of revenging their own past sufferings, were guilty of 
some atrocities, particularly against the monks. 

The scheme of an insurrection in the maritime provinces hav- 
ing turned out according to his wishes, the Prince of Orange 
now advanced into the Netherlands by the French frontier, 
having succeeded, by negotiation with Protestant powers, and by 
the expenditure of money, in assembling an army of about 20,000 
men, consisting of Germans, French, English, and Scotch. With 
the strength of this army he now began to grapple with Alva in 
the very seat of his power — the southern provinces of Flanders, 
Brabant, and Antwerp. He first took the town of Mons, an 
important position near the French frontier; and ere long he 
had reduced several other important towns. This was the only 
mode of action by which he could make any impression ; for, in 
all cases of attempts to deliver a conquered country, the only 
mode of procedure is to root out the foreign garrisons of towns 
one by one ; and a general victory in the open field is only valu- 
able as conducing to that end, by either inducing the towns to 
surrender in despair, or making the process of besieging them 
less tedious. But at this time, after so much success, various 



circumstances conspired botli to diminisli and dispirit his army. 
The most discouraging blow of all was the massacre of St Bar- 
tholomew, in whichj on the night of the 24th of August 1572, 
more than 60,000 of the Protestants of France perished. By 
this event, all hope of assistance from France was destroyed; 
and, after several fruitless engagements with Alva's army, Wil- 
liam was obliged to disband his forces, and to retire from active 
military operation. 

The condition of the Netherlands was now as follows : — Alva 
was nominally their governor ; but in the late struggle, no fewer 
than sixty or seventy towns, principally in Holland, Zealand, 
and Flanders, had thrown off the yoke, and now bade defiance 
to the Spanish government. Unless these towns were recovered, 
Philip could no longer be said to be king of the Netherlands. 
Alva's exertions were therefore devoted to the recovery of these 
towns; and his officers were almost all employed in sieges. 
Mons, Tergoes, Mechlin, Zutphen, and Naerden, were succes- 
sively reduced ; and so dreadful were the enormities perpetrated 
by the Spanish soldiers, that the citizens, after the surrender of 
other towns, resolved to exhaust every means of resistance rather 
than submit. The town of Haarlem distinguished itself by the 
desperate bravery with which for seven months it stood out 
against a large army under Alva's son. At length, trusting to a 
truce with the Spaniard, the famished citizens agreed to sur- 
render. The siege, some accounts say, had cost the Spaniards 
10,000 men ; and now they took a fearful vengeance. Hundreds 
of the most respectable citizens were executed ; and when the 
four executioners were tired of their bloody work, they tied their 
victims two by two together, and flung them into the lake of 
Haarlem. As showing how deep a hold the great struggle of 
the sixteenth century has taken of the popular memory, and how 
many local associations there are connected with it, we may 
quote the following account of a curious Haarlem custom, the 
origin of which is traced to the siege of the city in 1572 : — " In 
walking through the streets of Haarlem, we saw a rather 
curious memorial of these disastrous times. At the sides of the 
doors of various houses hung a small neatly-framed board, on 
which was spread a piece of £.ne lace-work of an oval form, resem- 
bling the top of a lady's cap with a border : the object, indeed, 
on a casual inspection, might have been taken for a lady's cap 
hung out to dry. Beneath it, to show the transparency of the lace, 
there was placed a piece of pink paper or silk. On asking the 
meaning of these exhibitions, I was informed that they origi- 
nated in a circumstance which occurred at the siege of Haarlem. 
Before surrendering the town, a deputation of aged matrons 
waited on the Spanish general to know in what manner the 
women who were at the time in childbirth should be protected 
from molestation in case of the introduction of the soldiery ; and 
he requested that at the door of each house containing a female 



SO situated an appropriate token should be hung' out, and pro- 
mised that that house should not be troubled. This, according* 
to the tradition, was attended to ; and till the present day, every 
house in which there is a female in this condition is distinguished 
in the manner I have mentioned. The lace is hung* out several 
weeks previous to the expected birth, and hangs several weeks 
afterwards, a small alteration bein^ made as soon as the sex of 
the child is known. I was further assured, that during- the time 
which is allowed for these exhibitions, the house is exempted 
from all legal execution, and that the husband canijot be taken 
to serve as a soldier.'' * 

While Alva was thus engaged in retrieving the revolted dis- 
tricts, his king at Madrid was growing dissatisfied with his 
conduct. He began to think that he had made an error in 
sending such a man into the Netherlands, who could scarcely 
make a discrimination in his cruelties between Protestants and 
Catholics ; and he looked about for a general to succeed him. 
He found such a person in Don Luis Zanega y Hequesens, com- 
mander of the order of Malta, a true Catholic, but a man of 
calm and temperate mind. Requesens accordingly made his 
entry into Brussels on the 17th of November 1573 ; and the 
stern old Alva returned to Spain, to be ill-treated by a master 
whom he had served too faithfully. 


In the civil government of the country, Eequesens pursued 
quite a different line of policy from his predecessor. He began 
his rule by breaking down the brass statue which Alva had 
erected of himself at Antwerp, dissolving* the Council of Tumults, 
abandoning the obnoxious taxes, and publishing an amnesty for 
past offences committed by the inhabitants of the revolted dis- 
tricts. But while thus changing the whole tone of the govern- 
ment, he was obliged to continue all those military operations 
which Alva had begun, for the purpose of compelling* the rebel 
cities of Holland and Zealand to reacknowledge the sovereignty 
of Philip. The first object of his attention was the town of 
Middleburg in Zealand, which had been kept in a state of close 
siege by the patriots for about a year and a half, and the loss of 
which would be a severe blow to the Spanish cause. He caused 
a large fleet to be collected, and appointing two able admirals 
to the command of it, he went on board one of the ships himself, 
and sailed down the Scheldt for the relief of the town. The 
Prince of Orange, then in Holland, immediately hastened to the 
critical spot ; and by his directions, the fleet of the patriots under 
Boissot, admiral of Holland, met the Spanish one, and engaging 
with it on the 29th of January 1574, gained a complete victory, 
sinking the ship of one of the Spanish admirals, and obliging* 

* Chambers's Tour in Holland and Belgium. 


the other to swim for his life. Requesens himself stood on the 
dyke of Sacheiio, and witnessed the disaster. After this the 
town of Middleburg surrendered to the Prince of Orange ; and 
the cause of the patriots in the maritime provinces appeared 
more hopeful than ever. In the meantime, two of the prince's 
brothers, Count Louis and Count Henry of Nassau, who had 
for some time been residing in Germany, advanced at the head 
of an army in the direction of the Maas, with the intention of 
exciting the inland provinces to assume a position similar to 
that which Holland and Zealand were so nobly maintaining. 
The issue of this attempt was fatal. Requesens had despatched 
a strong force to oppose them ; and on the 14th of April a battle 
was fought between the two armies near the village of Mooch : 
the royalists were victorious, and the two brave princes were 
killed. This defeat, and the death of two men so eminent and 
so popular, were indeed a heavy blow to the patriots; but its 
consequences were far less severe than they might have been. 
The Spanish troops, who had a long arrear of pay due them, 
became mutinous and unmanageable after the victory, and 
threatened to pillage Antwerp. Requesens contrived at length 
to appease them for the time by raising a hundred thousand 
florins from the citizens, pledging his own jewels, and melting' 
down his plate to raise more, and granting the mutineers a free 
pardon. But the interval had been of use to the patriots ; for 
a large fleet having been equipped by Requesens, and having 
been removed, during the mutiny, from Antwerp, where it was 
lying, a little way down the Scheldt, to be out of the reach of 
the soldiers, Boissot, the Zealand admiral, boldly sailed up the 
river, took forty of the ships, and shattered and sunk many 
more. At length, hov/ever, the mutineers returned to their duty ; 
and Requesens, having vainly tried in the first place to end the 
war by a proclamation of the king's pardon to all his Catholic 
subjects in the Netherlands, collected his whole force for the 
siege of the large and populous city of Leyden. 

The story of this siege is one of the most spirit-stirring in 
the annals of heroism. Leyden stands in a low situation in the 
midst of a labyrinth of rivulets and canals. That branch of 
the Rhine which still retains its ancient name passes through 
the middle of it ; and from this stream such an infinity of canals 
are derived, that it is difficult to say whether the water or the 
land possesses the greater space. By these canals the ground 
on which the city stands is divided into a great number of small 
islands, united together by bridges. For £ve months all other 
operations were suspended ; all the energy of Requesens, on the 
one hand, v^^as directed towards getting possession of this city ; 
and all the energy of the Prince of Orange, on the other hand, 
towards assisting the citizens, and preventing it from being 
taken. The issue depended entirely, however, on the bravery 
and resolution of the citizens of Leyden themselves. Pent up 



within tlieir walls^ thej liad to resist the attacks and stratagems 
of the besiegers; and all that the Prince of Orange could do, 
was to occupy the surrounding country, harass the besiegers as 
much as possible, and enable the citizens to hold out, by con- 
veying to them supplies of provisions and men. 

Nobly, nay, up to the highest heroic pitch of human nature, 
did the citizens behave. They had to endure a siege in its most 
dreary form, that of blockade. Instead of attempting to storm 
the town, Valdez, the Spanish general, resolved to reduce it by 
the slow but sure process of starvation. Por this purpose he 
completely surrounded the town by a circle of forts, more than 
sixty in number ; and the inhabitants thus saw themselves walled 
completely in from all the rest of the earth, with its growing 
crops and its well-filled granaries, and restricted entirely to 
whatever quantity of provisions there chanced to be on the small 
spot of ground which they walked up and down in. They had 
no means even of communicating with the Prince of Orange 
and their other friends outside, except by carrier-pigeons, which 
were trained for the purpose. One attempt was made by the 
citizens to break through the line of blockade, for the sake of 
keeping possession of a piece of pasture-ground for their cattle ; 
but it was unsuccessful ; and they began now to work day and 
night at repairing their fortifications, so as to resist the Spanish 
batteries when they should begin to play. Like fire pent up, 
the patriotism of the inhabitants burned more fiercely and 
brightly ; every man became a hero, every woman an orator, 
and words of flashing genius were spoken, and deeds of wild 
bravery done, such as would have been impossible except among 
20,000 human beings living in the same city, and all roused at 
once to the same unnatural state of emotion. The two leading 
spirits were John Van der Does, the commander, better known 
by his Latinised name of Dousa, as one of the best writers of 
Latin verse at that time, when so many able men devoted them- 
selves to this kind of literary exercise ; and Peter Van der Werf, 
the burgomaster. Under the management of these two men, 
every precaution was adopted that was necessary for the defence 
of the city. The resolution come to was, that the last man 
among them should die of want rather than admit the Spa- 
niards into the town. Coolly, and with a foresight thoroughly 
Dutch, Dousa and Van der Werf set about making an inven- 
tory of all that was eatable in the town; corn, cattle, nay, 
even horses and dogs; calculating how long the stock could 
last at the rate of so much a day to every man and woman 
in the city ; adopting means to get the whole placed under the 
management of a dispensing committee ; and deciding* what 
should be the allowance per head at first, so as to prevent their 
stock from being eaten up too fast. It was impossible, how- 
ever, to collect all the food into one fund, or to regulate 
its consumption by municipal arrangements ; and after two 



montlis liad elapsed, famine liad commenced in earnest, and those 
devices for mitigating the gnawings of hunger began to be 
employed which none but starving men could bear to think 
of. Not only the flesh of dogs and horses, but roots, weeds, 
nettles, every green thing that the eye could detect shooting up 
from the earth, was ravenously eaten. Many died of want, and 
thousands fell ill. Still they held out, and indignantly rejected 
the offers made to them by the besiegers. " When we have 
nothing else left,'^ said Dousa, in reply to a message from Valdez, 
'^ we will eat our left hands, keeping the right to fight with.^^ 
Once, indeed, hunger seemed to overcome their patriotism, and 
for some days crowds of gaunt and famished wretches moved 
along the streets crying, " Let the Spaniards in ; oh, for God's 
sake let them in.'' Assembling with hoarse clamours at the 
house of Van der Werf, they demanded that he should give them 
food, or else surrender. " I have no food to give you,'' was the 
burgomaster's reply, ^^ and I have sworn that I will not sur- 
render to the Spaniards ; but if my body will be of any service 
to you, tear me to pieces, and let the hungriest of you eat me." 
The poor wretches went away, and thought no more of surren- 

The thought of the Prince of Orange night and day was how 
to render assistance to the citizens of Leyden — how to convey 
provisions into the town. He had collected a large supply ; but 
all his exertions could not raise a sufficient force to break through 
the line of blockade. In this desperate extremity they resolved 
to have recourse to that expedient which they kept in reserve 
until it should be clear that no other was left — they would 
break their dykes, open their sluices, inundate the whole level 
country round Leyden, and wash the Spaniards and their circle 
efforts utterly away. It was truly a desperate resource ; and it 
was only in the last extremity that they could bring themselves 
to think of it. All that vast tract of fertile land, which the 
labour of ages had drained and cultivated — to see it converted 
into a sheet of water ! there could not possibly be a sight more 
unseemly and melancholy to a Dutchman's eyes. The damage, 
it was calculated, would amount to 600,000 gilders. But when 
the destruction of the dykes round Leyden was once resolved 
upon, they set to work with a heartiness and a zeal greater than 
that which had attended their building. Hatchets, hammers, 
spades, and pickaxes, were in requisition ; and by the labour of a 
single night, the labour of ages was demolished and undone. 
The water, availing itself of the new outlets, poured over the flat 
country, and in a short time the whole of the region situated 
between Leyden and Kotterdam was flooded to a considerable 
depth. The Spaniards, terror-stricken at first, bethought them- 
selves of the fate of the antediluvians ; but at last, seeing that 
the water did not rise above a certain level, they recovered their 
courage, and though obliged to abandon those of their forts 



whicli were stationed in the low grounds, they persevered in the 
blockade. But there was another purpose to be served by the 
inundation of the country besides that of washing* away the 
Spaniards, and the Prince of Orange was making* preparations 
for effecting' it. He had caused about 200 large fiat-bottomed 
boats to be built, and loaded with provisions ; these now began 
to row towards the famished city. The inhabitants saw them 
coming" ; they watched them eagerly advancing across the waters,, 
lighting their way past the Spanish forts, and bringing bread to 
them. But it almost seemed as if Heaven itself had become 
cruel ; for a north wind was blowing, and so long as it continued 
to blow, the waters would not be deep enough to enable the boats 
to reach the city. They waited for days, every eye fixed on the 
vanes ; but still the wind blew from the north, although never 
almost within the memory of the oldest citizen had there been such 
a continuance of north wind at that season of the year. Many 
died in sig'ht of the vessels which contained the food which would 
have kept them alive ; and those who still survived shuffled along 
the streets more like skeletons than men. In two days these 
would to a certainty have been all dead too ; when, lo ! the vanes 
trembled and veered round ; the wind shifted first to the north- 
west, blowing the sea tides with hurricane force into the mouths 
of the rivers ; and then to the south, driving the waves exactly in 
the direction of the city. The remaining forts of the Spaniards 
were quickly begirt with water. The Spaniards themselves, pur- 
sued by the Zealanders in their boats, were either drowned or 
shot swimming, or fished out with hooks fastened to the end of 
poles, and killed with the sword. Several bodies of them, how- 
ever, effected their escape. The citizens had all crowded to the 
gates to meet their deliverers. With bread in their hands, they 
ran through the streets ; and many who had outlived the famine 
died of surfeit. That same day they met in one of the churches 
— a lean and sickly congregation — with the magistrates at their 
head, to return thanks to Almighty God for his mercy. 

The siege of Ley den was raised on the 3d of October 1574 ; 
and the anniversary of that day is still celebrated by the citizens. 
It is the most memorable day in the history of Leyden; and 
many memorials exist to keep the inhabitants in remembrance 
of the event which happened on it. Usually, the object which 
first excites the curiosity of the traveller who visits Leyden is 
the Stadthouse, or Hotel de Ville, which occupies a conspicuous 
situation on one of the sides of the Breed Straat, or Broad 
Street. The date of the erection of the building, 1574, is carved 
on the front, along with the arms of the town, two cross-keys, 
and several inscriptions referring* to the sufferings of the place 
during the period of its besiegement. The walls of the vene- 
rable apartment in which the burgomasters assemble are of dark 
panelled wood, partly hung' with beautiful old tapestry, and 
ornamented with several paintings. One picture of modern 



date, by Yan Bree of Antwerp, is of a size so lar^e as almos^t to 
cover one side of the room, and represents the streets of Leyden 
filled with its famishing inhabitants, in the midst of whom stands 
prominently forward the figure of the burgomaster, Peter Van 
der Werf, oifering his body to be eaten. The small cut at the 
head of the present paper is expressive of this affecting scene. 
Another memorial of the siege of Leyden by the Spaniards is 
the university of that city, so celebrated for the number of great 
historical names connected with it. " The Prince of Orange, as 
a recompense to the inhabitants of Leyden for their heroic 
conduct, gave them the choice of exemption from taxes for a 
certain number of years, or of having a university established 
in the city; and, much to their honour, they preferred the 
latter. The university of Leyden was accordingly established 
in 1575." 

The fortunate issue of the siege of Leyden changed the face of 
affairs. Philip consented to hold a conference with the patriots 
at Breda. Concessions were made on both sides, with a view 
of coming to an agreement ; but on the question of the conduct 
which the government ought to pursue with reference to reli- 
gion, the two parties were completely at variance. " The here- 
tics must be expelled from the maritime provinces,^' was the 
demand of the Spanish deputies. " If you expel the heretics, 
as you call them," said the deputies of the patriots, " you will 
expel more than two-thirds of the inhabitants, and if you do 
so, there will not be enough of men to mend the dykes." " The 
king," replied the Spaniards, " would rather lose the provinces 
than have them peopled with heretics." The conference accord- 
ingly broke up, without having accomplished anything-. 

Again armies began their marchings and countermarchings 
through the country. Requesens had succeeded in an attempt 
which he expected to be of great assistance to him in his design 
of reducing Zealand, and he was endeavouring to follow up this 
advantage by laying siege to the town of Zuricsee, when he was 
seized with a fever, and died after a few days' illness. 


On the death of Eequesens, the Council of State, consisting at 
that time of nine members, among whom were Viglius and Bar- 
laimont, as well as some others less devoted to the Spanish cause, 
assumed the government, there being no person on the spot 
authorised by Philip to take upon himself the office of regent. 
Under the rule of this committee the greatest confusion pre- 
vailed ; but at length the liberal members of the Council of 
State took courage, and issued an order for a convention of the 
states; and at this convention, which was opened on the 14th 
of September 1576, it was agreed to hold a solemn congress 
of representatives from the various provinces, in the town-house 
of Ghent, on the 10th of October. 



This remarkable turn of affairs was brought about in a great 
measure by tlie exertions of the Prince of Orange. The war 
had now lasted nearly ten years. The result was, that the seven- 
teen provinces constituting the Netherlands, which on Philip's 
accession had acknowledged his sway, were now broken up into 
two groups, the maritime provinces constituting one group, and 
the inland provinces another. In the maritime group, of which 
Holland and Zealand were the most important members, the 
majority of the inhabitants were Protestants, and consequently 
they had maintained a more determined attitude during the 
war; and at this moment, although they had not formally 
disowned Philip's sovereignty, they were really governing 
themselves under the administration of the Prince of Orange. 
In the inland group, the state of matters was very different. 
The majority of the inhabitants of this group were Catholics, 
and consequently their opposition to Spanish tyranny had 
been less vigorous and less enthusiastic. But William was not 
content with seeing only one part of the Netherlands delivered 
from Spanish tyranny, even if it had been possible to deliver the 
maritime provinces without convulsing and agitating the others. 
His object was to secure liberty to the whole of the Netherlands, 
whether that were to be accomplished by a judicious compromise 
with Spain, or by formally casting off all allegiance to Spain 
whatever, and uniting the various provinces into a new indepen- 
dent European state. It was in consequence, therefore, of his 
public recommendations to the Council of State, and his secret 
dealings with influential men, that the States- General had been 
held, and the congress of Ghent agreed upon. 

After sitting for about a month, the congress published the 
result of its deliberations in the shape of a treaty of confederacy 
between the maritime and the inland provinces. This treaty is 
known in history by the name of the Pacification of Ghent, It 
consisted of twenty-five articles, and its principal provisions were, 
that the maritime provinces, with the Prince of Orange on the 
one hand, and the inland or Catholic provinces on the other, 
should mutually assist each other in expelling the Spaniards; 
that all the tyrannous and persecuting* decrees of Alva should be 
repealed ; that in the inland provinces the Catholic religion should 
still continue to be the legal one ; and that in Holland and Zea- 
land all civil and religious arrang-ements should be permitted to 
stand until they should be revised by a future assembly of the 

At the very instant when the Netherlands were beginning to 
rejoice in the hopes arising* from the pacification of Ghent, there 
arrived a new regent, sent from Spain. This was Don John of 
Austria, a natural son of Charles V., a man of great talent, both 
civil and military, and of an exceedingly amiable and winning 
disposition. By the advice of the Prince of Orange, the Council 
resolved to conclude a strict bargain with the new regent before 


admitting him to tlie government. A meeting of noblemen^, 
ecclesiastics, and other influential persons was held at Brussels 
on the 9th of January 1577, at which a compact in support of 
the late resolutions at Ghent was formed, known by the name of 
the Union of Brussels ; and a copy of the deed of union having 
hQen transmitted to Don John, the result was a conference 
between him and certain deputies appointed by the states. At 
this conference, which was held in a city of Luxemburg, a 
treaty was agreed upon, dated the 12th of February 1577, and 
known by the name of the Perpetual Edict, It secured for the 
inland provinces all that they had been so earnestly contending 
for, all that the 'Pacification of Ghent bound them to demand — ■ 
the removal of the Spanish troops, the release of prisoners, and 
a mild and considerate government. The Protestant provinces 
of Holland and Zealand, however, were dissatisfied with it, and 
refused their conci^rrence. 

It appeared now as if the long struggle had come to an end ; 
as if Spain and the Netherlands had finally compromised their 
differences. When Don John made his entry into Brussels on 
the 1st of May 1577, the citizens congratulated themselves on 
the skill with which they had managed to limit his authority, 
and said to each other, " Ah, it will cost our new regent some 
trouble to play his game as Alva did.'^ 

No sooner, however, had John taken the reins of government 
in his hands, than he began to free himself from all the restraints 
which the inland provinces thought they had imposed on him. 
Eesolved to recover all the prerogatives he had parted with, he 
despatched letters written in cipher to Philip, urging him to send 
back the Spanish and Italian forces into the Netherlands; and 
making a journey from Brussels to the frontier province of Namur, 
he took possession of the capital of the province, intending to 
wait there till the troops should arrive. The letters were inter- 
cepted by the king of Navarre, and being immediately sent to the 
Prince of Orange, were by him made public. Enrag-ed at the 
discovery of the regent's treachery, the authorities of the inland 
provinces now determined to cast him off; and at the same time 
they intreated the Prince of Orange to come to Brussels and 
assume the administration of affairs. Accordingly, leaving his 
own faithful maritime provinces, the prince sailed up the Scheldt, 
and thence made his passage by canal to Brussels, amid the 
cheers of the multitudes who stood lining the banks for miles, 
anxious to obtain a sight of " Vader Willem " coming to do for 
them what he had already done for the Hollanders and Zea- 
landers. He entered Brussels on the 23d of September, and 
was immediately invested with the office of governor of Brabant, 
a title which gave him as much power as if he had been a regent 
appointed by Philip himself. The whole of the Netherlands now, 
except the two frontier provinces of Luxemburg and Namur, 
where Don John still maintained his influence, were under the 



government of William of Orange. His darling scheme of unit- 
ing the maritime and the inland provinces under one system of 
government, extending to both the blessings of perfect civil free- 
dom, and allowing each group to establish that form of worship 
which was most conformable to its own wishes — the maritime 
group the Protestant, and the inland group the Catholic form — • 
while yet neither the Catholics should be persecuted in the one^ 
nor the Protestants in the other — this scheme was now all but 
realised. With respect to the question, how Philip's rights as the 
sovereign of the Netherlands should be dealt with, this was a 
point about which, in the meantime, it was unnecessary to give 
himself much trouble. It would be decided afterwards by the 
course of events. 

This happy aspect of things was not of long duration. William 
had hardly entered on his office, when he began to be harassed 
by those petty insect annoyances which always buzz and flutter 
round greatness, making the life of a man who pursues a career 
of active well-doing on a large scale very far from a pleasant one 
to himself. At length a powerful cabal was formed against him 
by certain Catholic noblemen ; and, without the consent of the 
states, or any other legitimate authority, the Archduke Mathias, 
brother of the emperor of Germany, was invited to come and 
assume the government of the southern provinces of the Nether- 
lands. The arrival of this self-announced governor was a decided 
surprise to the states ; but the quick eye of the Prince of Orange 
saw that it might be turned to advantage. By inviting Mathias 
to assume the office which Don John considered to be his, the 
Catholic nobles had given an unpardonable offence to Philip ; 
and if Mathias did assume the government, it would set the 
Spanish king and the German emperor at variance; both of 
which events were exceedingly desirable as matters then stood. 
William therefore was the first to recommend his own resigna- 
tion, and the appointment of Mathias as governor instead; a 
change which would do no harm, as Mathias was a silly young 
man whom it would be very easy to manage. On the 18th of 
January 1578, Mathias therefore was formally installed as go- 
vernor-general, with the Prince of Orange as his lieutenant in 
every department ; and Don John was at the same time declared 
a public enemy. 

Meanwhile Philip had sent a powerful army to reinstate Don 
John. At the head of this army was Alexander Farnese, Prince 
of Parma, the son of that Duchess of Parma who had been 
regent before Alva, and though yet young, reputed to be the 
first military genius of the age. Pushing into the interior of 
the Netherlands with this army, Don John speedily reconquered 
a large tract of the country ; and the states, defeated in several 
engagements, were obliged to intreat assistance from foreign 
powers. After several months of war, they were delivered from 
all fear of having the treacherous John restored to the regency ; 



for, on the 1st of October 1578, he died suddenly at Bougy. 
But if delivered of one enemy in John, they had to contend with 
another in all respects more formidable in his successor, the 
matchless Prince of Parma. The prospect of a campaign against 
a man so eminent in the art of war completely disheartened 
them ; and any chance they might have had of being able to repel 
the invasion which he conducted, was infinitely lessened by the 
outbreak of violent dissensions in the southern provinces, espe- 
cially between the Flemings, or inhabitants of Flanders, and the 
Walloons, or inhabitants of the south-eastern provinces. 


In these circumstances, the Prince of Orange thought it best 
to take precautions for securing the independence of at least a 
part of the Netherlands. It had long appeared to William that 
the next best thing to a union of all the provinces of the Nether- 
lands under a free government, would be the union of the mari- 
time provinces by themselves under such a government. These 
provinces would form a distinct state, thoroughly Dutch and 
thoroughly Protestant ; and the difficulty of governing them 
separately w^ould be far less than that of governing them in con- 
junction with the southern or Walloon provinces, whose in- 
habitants w^ere not only Catholic, but half French in their 
lineage and their habits. The progress which the Prince of 
Parma was now making, not onl}^ in conquering-, but in con- 
ciliating- the Walloons, decided William to carry into effect his. 
long-cherished idea, and to attempt a formal separation between 
the northern provinces and the rest of the Netherlands. His 
eftbrts succeeded ; and on the 29th of January, there was so- 
lemnly signed at Utrecht a treaty of union between the 
provinces of Holland, Zealand, Guelderland, Utrecht, and Fries- 
land, by which they formed themselves into an independent re- 
public. Thus w^as a new European state founded, which, being- 
joined afterwards by the two provinces of Overyssel and Gro- 
ningen, and recognised by the foreig-n powers, obtained the 
name of The Seven United Provinces^ and subsequently of Hol- 

But while labouring to effect this great object, William by 
no means ceased to struggle for another which he considered 
greater still, the independence of the Avhole Netherlands. If a 
community of religion, and the enthusiastic attachment of the 
people to his person, endeared the northern provinces to him in a 
peculiar manner, the breadth of his intellect, and his general love 
of liberty, made him take a deep interest in the fate of the 
southern provinces ; and gladly w^ould he devote his best exer- 
tions to secure for the Flemings and the Walloons of the south 
that independence which he had to all appearance secured for 
the Dutch of the north. Accordingly, both before and after 
the union of the northern provinces, he continued to act as 



lieutenaiit-g'overnor under MatMas, and to superintend tlie ad- 
ministration of the southern provinces. 

Meanwhile an attempt was made bj the pope and the emperor 
of Germany to bring" about a reconciliation between Spain and 
the Netherlands. But Philip's big-otry again interposed a 
harrier in the way of an ag-reement ; for he declared, that what- 
ever other concessions he might be willing to make, he never 
would be at peace with heresy. While these negotiations were 
pending, the Prince of Parma had slackened his military acti- 
vity ; but when the congress broke up its sittings in the end of 
1579, he recommenced his campaign in the southern provinces 
with fresh ardour. 

It was evident; however, to the Prince of Orange, that the 
issue of the struggle could not be decided by one or two battles 
with the Prince of Parma. His aim all along had been to thwart 
Philip by engaging* some of the principal European powers on 
the side of the Netherlands. No sooner, therefore, had he seen 
the Protestant provinces of the north united hj the treaty of 
Utrecht, than he began to mature another scheme by which he 
hoped to obtain for the union greater strength within itself, and 
greater estimation in the eyes of foreign nations. This was no 
other than the formal deposition of Philip from the sovereignty 
of the Netherlands, and the election of a new sovereign capable 
of bringing into the field all the power of some foreign nation to 
counterpoise that of Spain. He hesitated for some time whether 
the future sovereign of the Netherlands should be Queen Eliza- 
beth of England, or the Duke of Anjou, brother to the French 
king; but at last decided in favour of the latter. Having* 
'finally weighed his scheme, and resolved to adopt it, he procured 
a meeting of the States-General at Antwerp ; and there Philip 
was deposed as " a tyrant ; '^ the Netherlands were declared a free 
and independent state ; and the Duke of Anjou having become 
bound to use the power of France to expel the Spaniards from 
his new dominion, entered on the exercise of the sovereignty. 
At the same time, William of Orange was installed in the 
government of Holland, Zealand, and Friesland, under the title 
of Stadtholder, and with the reservation of the right of homage 
to the Duke of Anjou. 

These arrangements were concluded in 1581 and 1582; and 
for two years after, the history of the struggle is but an uninte- 
resting record of sieges and engagements, important at the time, 
but too numerous to be detailed in a narrative. We hasten to 
the concluding act of the drama. 


Philip, surrounded by the haughty ceremonial of a Spanish 
court, kept his dark and evil eye ever rolling towards the Nether- 
lands. Foiled, defeated, gaining an advantage only to lose it 
again, he had watched the course of the struggle with a bitter 



earnestness. A scov^^l passed over Ms brow at every recollection 
of tlie manner in wliicli Ms heretical subjects had resisted his 
authority and baffled his purposes. But the last indignity was 
worst of all. To be openly deposed in the face of all Europe, to 
be rejected and cast off hj a portion of his subjects inhabiting a 
little corner of his vast dominions, to have another sovereign 
elected in his stead ; this was an insult such as monarch had 
never experienced before. And all this had been done by that 
one man, William of Orange. In the course of his life he had 
already been thwarted, or supposed himself to be thwarted, by 
one personal enemy after another ; and these, if history be true, 
he had successively disposed of, hj sending* them prematurely 
out of the world. The poisoned cup, or the dagger of the hired 
assassin, had rid him of several blood relations whom he con- 
ceived to be his enemies. His own son, his eldest born, had 
died by his orders ; and now he resolved to rid himself by similar 
means of the man who had robbed him of the Netherlands. 
Early in 1580 he issued a proclamation offering a reward of 
25,000 golden crowns, with a patent of nobility, and a pardon 
for all past offences, to any one who should assassinate the 
Prince of Orange. In reply to this brutal proclamation the 
prince published a defence of his own conduct, which, under 
the name of " The Apology,'^ has been always admired as one 
of the noblest refutations ever penned. It is believed to have 
been the composition of a Protestant clergyman, a friend of the 

For some time no effects followed the issuing of Philip's pro- 
clamation, and William was quietly engaged in consolidating the 
government under the Duke of Anjou. He had gone to Antwerp 
to attend the ceremony of the new sovereign's inauguration, and 
was to stay there some time, until everything was fairly settled. 
On the 18th of March 1582, he gave a great dinner at the castle 
of the town to celebrate the duke's birthday. Leaving the hall 
to ascend to his own chamber, he was met at the door by a silly 
melancholy-looking young man, who desired to present a peti- 
tion. While he was looking at the paper, the young man fired 
a pistol at his head. The ball entered below the right ear, and 
passing through his mouth, came out at the other side. The 
prince fell apparently dead, and the assassin was instantly put to 
death by the attendants. It appeared, from papers found on his 
person, that he was a Spaniard named John Jaureguay, clerk to 
Gaspar Anastro, a Spanish merchant in the town. Anastro had 
engaged to Philip, for a rev/ard of 28,000 ducats, to effect the 
object which the proclamation had not been able to accomplish; 
but, lurvvilling to undertake the assassination in person, he had 
fixed upon his melancholy half-crazed clerk as his deputy ; and 
the poor wretch had been persuaded by a Dominican monk of the 
name of Timmerman, that the death he was sure to die in the 
performance of so glorious an act of duty would be an immediate 



entrance into paradise. Timmerman, and Venero, Anastro's 
cashier, who was also implicated in the murder, were seized and 
executed ; but Anastro himself escaped. It was long* feared that 
the wound was mortal ; hut it proved not to be so ; and in a short 
time the prince was again able to resume his duties, dearer now 
than ever to the people of the Netherlands. He had scarcely 
recovered, Avhen he was summoned to act in a new crisis. The 
Duke of Anjou beg-an to act falsely towards his subjects. Fail- 
ing in a treacherous attempt to seize the town of Antwerp, 
Anjou was obliged to become a fugitive from his own king-dom. 
Perplexed and uncertain how to act, the states again had re- 
course to the counsel of the Prince of Orange ; and after much 
hesitation, he gave it as his deliberate opinion, that, upon the 
whole, in the present state of matters, nothing was so advisable as 
to readmit the duke to the sovereignty, after binding him b3^ new 
and more stringent obligations. In giving' this advice, William 
spoke from his intimate knowledge of the state of Europe. 
The reasons, however, which actuated the Prince of Orange 
in advising the recall of Anjou, although very satisfactory to 
men experienced in statecraft, and gifted with the same political 
insight as himself, Avere too subtle to be appreciated by the 
popular understanding ; and it began to be murmured by the 
gossips of Antwerp that the Prince of Orange had gone over to 
the French interest, and was conspiring' to annex the Nether- 
lands to France. Hurt at these suspicions, which impeded his 
measures, and rendered his exertions fruitless, William left 
Antwerp, and withdrew to his own northern provinces, where 
the people would as soon have burnt the ships in their harbours 
as suspected the good faith of their beloved stadtholder '^ Vader 
Willem.'^ By removing into the north, however, William did 
not mean to cease taking any part in the affairs of the southern 
provinces. He continued to act by letters and messengers, 
allaying various dissensions among the nobility, and smooth- 
ing the way for the return of the Duke of Anjou, who was then 
residing in France. But it was destined that the treacherous 
Frenchman should never again set his foot within the Nether- 
lands. Taken suddenly ill at the Chateau-Thierry, he died there 
on the 10th of June 1584, aged thirty years. 

Again were the Netherlands thrown into a state of anarchy 
and confusion. The northern provinces alone, under the govern- 
ment of William, enjoyed internal tranquillity and freedom from 
war. The southern provinces were torn by religious dissension ; 
while, to aggravate the evil, the Prince of Parma was conducting* 
military operations within the territory. And now that the 
sovereign they had elected was dead, what should be done? 
Who should be elected next? Eendered wise and unanimous 
by their adversity, the secret wishes of all turned to William ; 
and negotiations were set on foot for electing William, Prince of 
Orange, and stadtholder of the northern provinces, to the con- 



stitutional sovereignty of the Netherlands. He was to accept 
the crown on nearly the same terms as he had himself proposed 
in the case of the Duke of Anjou. 

These hopes were doomed to be disappointed. "William had 
gone to Delft, and was there engaged in business, preparatory to 
his accession to the sovereignty. On the 10th of July, having 
left his diningM'Oom in the palace, he had just placed his foot on 
the first step of the staircase leading to the upper part of the house, 
when a pale man with a cloak, who had come on pretence of get- 
ting a passport, pointed a horse-pistol at his breast and fired. 
The prince fell. *' God have mercy on me and on this poor 
people," were the only words he was able to utter ; and in a few 
moments he was dead; his wife, Louisa de Coligni, whose father 
and first husband had also been murdered, bending over him. 
The assassin was seized, attempting to escape. His name was 
Balthasar Gerard, a native of Burgundy. Like Jaureguay, he 
had been actuated to the crime by the hopes of fame on earth 
and glory in heaven. Documents also exist which show that he 
was an instrument of the Spanish authorities, and had communi- 
cated his design to several Spanish monks. He suffered death in 
the most horrible form which detestation for his crime could de- 
vise ; his right hand being first burnt off, and the flesh being 
then torn from his bones with red-hot pincers. He died with the 
composure of a martyr. 

The Prince of Orange was fifty-two years of age at the time 
of his murder. He had been four times married, and left ten 
children, three sons and seven daughters. 


The death of the Prince of Orange left the Netherlands divided 
into two parts — the northern or Protestant provinces, united in a 
confederacy, and to all intents and purposes independent of 
Spain; and the southern or Catholic provinces, either subject to 
Spain, or only struggling for independence. The subsequent 
histories of these two portions of the Netherlands are diff'erent. 

Holland^ as the seven united provinces of Holland, Zealand, 
Utrecht, Guelderland, Friesland, Overyssel, and Groningen came 
to be called, successfully resisted all the attempts of Spain to re- 
subjugate it. Prince Maurice inherited his father's abilities and 
his honours, and for many years he conducted the war in which 
the determination of Spain to recover its territory involved the 
provinces. On his death, in 1625, he was succeeded in the govern- 
ment by his youngest l3rother, Frederic Henry ; and before his 
death, in 1647, the existence of Holland as an independent 
European state was recognised by almost every foreign cabinet, 
and Spain saw that it was in vain to continue the war. His son 
Williamll. died, after a short and turbulent reign, in 1650, leav- 
ing a widow, who, within a week of her husband's death, gave 
birth to a son, William III. 



On the abdication of James II. of England, this William III.^, 
the great-grandson of the hero of the Netherlands, came from 
Holland to ascend the throne of Great Britain, in conjunction 
with his wife Mary, James's daughter. During his reign, Great 
Britain and Holland were under one rule; but when he died child- 
less in 1701, the States-General of the Seven Provinces, instead 
of appointing a new stadtholder, took the government into their 
own hands. The title of Prince of Orange, however, did not 
become extinct ; it was inherited by his cousin, Prison of Nassau^ 
who was governor of the single province of Friesland. The acti- 
vity and energy of this new Prince of Orange and of his son soon 
gave them an ascendancy in all the provinces ; and in 1747, in 
the person of the latter, the House of Orange again acceded to 
the dignity of the stadtholderate of the United Provinces. At 
the close of the last century, Plolland suiFered from the invasion 
of the French, and was for some time in their hands ; but finally, 
in 1813, the Prince of Orange was restored to power; being 
admitted to the government as a sovereign prince. 

Having thus traced the history of the northern provinces of 
the Netherlands down to 1815, let us trace that of the southern 
ones down to the same year. 

After the death of William of Orange, the Prince of Parma 
continued his victorious career in the southern provinces ; and if 
he did not altogether crush the spirit of patriotism, he at least 
rendered it weak and powerless. Although, therefore, Prince 
Maurice and Prince Frederic Henry, while repelling the attem.pts 
of the Spaniards to reconquer Holland, endeavoured also to drive 
them out of the rest of the Netherlands, they were never able 
fully to eiFect this, and Spain still kept possession of all the 
southern provinces. In 1713, Philip III. of Spain gave these 
southern provinces as a marriage portion to his daughter Isabella 
when she espoused Albert, Archduke of Austria ; and from that 
time they ceased to be called the Spanish provinces, and obtained 
the name of the Belgian provinces, or of the Austrian Nether- 
lands. This arrangement lasted till 1795, when it was swept 
away by the French Eevolution. After a struggle between 
France and Austria, the Austrian Netherlands and the province 
of Liege were divided into nine departments, forming an integral 
part of the French republic ; and they continued to be so till the 
fall of Napoleon in 1815. 

At this great epoch, when Europe, recovering from the shock 
of the French Revolution, had leisure to arrange its various 
territories according to its own pleasure, separating some countries 
which had been long joined, and joining others which had been 
long separated, it was determined once more to unite Holland 
and the Belgian provinces into one state. Accordingly, in 1815, 
the Prince of Orange had the southern provinces added to his 
dominions, and was recognised by the various powers of Europe 
as king of the whole Netherlands. In 1579 the country had 



been broken up into two parts ; and now, in 1815, they were re- 
united, with no chance, so far as appearances went, of ever being 
separated again. But appearances were fallacious. As we have 
already informed our readers, there had always been certain 
marked differences of lineage, religion, language, and habits, 
between the people of the northern and those of the southern pro- 
vinces of the Netherlands. In 1830, when the second French 
revolution took place, the Belgians revolted from their allegiance^ 
and insisted on being separated from Holland, and erected into an 
independent kingdom. The demand was, after some delay, com- 
plied with by foreign powers. On the 15th of November 1831 
the boundary-line was ^xed, and the Netherlands were divided 
into the two independent states of Holland and Belgium. The 
crown of the latter was accepted by Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg, 
now sovereign of the country. 

The modern kingdom of Holland consists of the following ten 
provinces: — North Holland, South Holland, Zealand, North 
Brabant, Guelderland, Utrecht, Friesland, Overyssel, Groningen, 
and Drenthe ; its capital is the Hague. The population on the 
1st of January 1839 amounted to 2,583,271, The prevailing 
form of worship is the Calvinistic ; but all other forms enjoy 
perfect toleration. Holland is celebrated for its excellent educa- 
tional institutions, which are on a liberal footing, and acceptable 
to all sects and classes. 

The kingdom of Belgium consists of nine provinces — Limbourg, 
Liege, Namur, Luxemburg, Hainault, South Brabant, East 
Flanders, West Flanders, Antwerp ; its capital is Brussels. The 
population of Belgium in 1830 was 4,064,235. The Belgians 
are almost altogether Roman Catholics. The ancient Teutonic 
language, which has taken the form of Dutch in Holland, has 
degenerated into Flemish in Belgium ; besides which, there is 
the language called Walloon, a species of old French mingled 
with German, and spoken principally in Hainault, on the borders 
of France. Nevertheless, modern French may be described as 
the predominating language of Belgium. 

We have now shown how the Netherlands effected their inde- 
pendence ; how the country became divided into the two modern 
kingdoms of Holland and Belgium ; and it only remains for us 
to say that, successful as were the struggles of the people against 
oppression, the Netherlands, taken as a whole, have not till this 
hour attained the opulence and prosperity of which they were 
deprived by the iniquitous aggressions of Philip II. in the six- 
teenth century. In travelling through the country, we every- 
where see symptoms of fallen grandeur. Antwerp, once the 
most opulent mercantile city in Europe, is now in a state of de- 
cay ; v\^hile Louvain, Mechlin, Utrecht, Leyden, Dort, Delft, all 
exhibit similar tokens of desertion. To " the Spaniards '^ is every- 
where ascribed the ruin of trade, the destruction of works of art, 
and the distresses to which the country has been exposed. Such 



are tlie results of the unhappy war which scourg'ed the Nether- 
lands in the sixteenth century. Although advancing by new 
efforts towards its former condition, three centuries have not obli- 
terated the traces of this fearful struggle for civil and religious 
freedom. Considering the services performed by William of 
Orange in this great effort, no one can look without emotion on 
the splendid monument erected over his tomb in the New Church 
of Delft, of which we append a representation. It is a lofty 
structure of marble, embellished with many figures, one of which 
is that of the prince, in bronze, sitting with his truncheon of 
office, and his helmet at his feet; while behind is a figure of 
Tame sounding with her trumpet the praises of the hero. 



OULD you like me to do anything- for you, dear 
J^)) mother? said Lizette, a sweet-tempered girl, to her 
rr^ mother, who was lying* to all appearance on her 
^ deathbed, in a cottage in the environs of Marseilles. 
Would you like me to raise your head a little? I am 
sure you would — now, I thitik you will be more comfort- 
able. I am glad I thought of that.'' 

" Lizette," said the dying woman, with some degree of 
effort, " you kill me with kindness — you are far too good to 

" Kindness ! — do not speak of such a thing. It is my duty to 
be kind and attentive to my poor dear mother. You know I 
would do anything I could think of for you, and it would be 
all little enough. Do try to compose yourself, dear mother. 
Perhaps you may yet get well." 

" Never," answered Dame Margaret ; " I know I have not 
long to live, and yet I cannot die. Had you been less dutiful, 
less kind, it would have been easier for me now. I could have 
endured your want of affection, but your goodness overcomes 
me. Oh, what a dreadful thino;" it is to receive kindness from 
those you have wronged ! " And here the poor woman stopped, 
as if convulsed with some strong emotion. 

Lizette exhausted every persuasive to compose the agony of 
No. 43. 1 


tlie sufferer, whom she imag-ined was becoming delirious ; but all 
was in vain. 

" Dear, dear motlier," said sbe tenderly, her larg'e black eyes 
filling" with tears, as she fixed them on the ag-itated countenance 
of the dying woman ; " do not speak thus. You have never done 
me any wrong ; you have always been the best of mothers." 

" Do. not call me mother ; I am not your mother." 

" I fear you are suffering a great deal," said Lizette, not heed- 
ing her strange observation. 

" Oh, yes," answered Dame Margaret, who was perceptibly 
getting weaker ; " I am dying, and cannot appear before God 
with such a heavy sin upon my conscience, Lizette." 

" If it is a sin, dear mother, you ought to tell it to the cure, 
and not to me : he will console you. Would you like me to go 
and call him ?" 

" Go, my child ; but come back quickly : I feel I am very ill." 

When Lizette returned, accompanied by the pastor, they both 
observed terror in eyerj feature of the dying woman. Lizette 
fell on her knees at the foot of her mother's bed, and poured out 
her full heart in prayer. 

" Well, Dame Margaret," said the pastor, seating himself on a 
stool, and taking the hand of the poor woman, as if to feel her 
pulse, " you are ill ; but I trust you are at peace with God ?" 

" No, sir, no," replied the woman ; " there is no peace for me : 
I have wronged that innocent child. X)h, Lizette, Lizette," added 
she, turning to the young girl, " promise not to curse me." 

'^ Dearest mother,'" said Lizette caressingly. 

" Hush, hush. For pity's sake do not call me mother : it kills 
me." And Dame Margaret, then raising herself in the bed, 
clasped her hands, and with an effort for which she seemed 
obliged to collect all her remaining strength — "I am verily 
guilty, sir. I am not the mother of that child. Lizette, I am 
not your mother ;" and, as if she had but been given strength for 
this avowal, she fell back in utter exhaustion. 

" Explain yourself, and hope still in God," said the pastor, as 
he bent over the couch ; whilst Lizette's anxious gaze seemed to 
inquire the meaning of these mysterious words. 

Dame Margaret, after a few moments, recovered sufficiently to 
answer — "Sixteen years ago I lost my husband, just as I became 
the mother of a little girl ; and I was soon after hired as nurse to 
the daughter of the Baroness de Pons, who then resided in Mar- 
seilles. Three weeks had hardly gone by when the child fell 
sick, and so sick that I thought she was going to die. I was a 
poor widow. If I lost the nursing, I must lose the money that I 
intended to lay out in purchasing a bit of ground near my house, 
which would set me above want for the rest of my days." Here 
the dying woman paused, either to collect strength or to delay a 
painful confession. The cure pressed her hand, as if to encourage 
her. "Alas! your reverence," she resumed, in broken accents, 


^' one morning' that my poor nursling* was lying* as if she were 
dead, a fine coach stopped at my door, and the Baroness de Pons 
alighted from it, looking- very happy, and crying*, ^ My child, 
my Clotilda. Quick, Dame Margaret; bring* me my child.' 
Well, sir, what can I say for myself ? My heart failed me. I had 
not courage to grieve that beautiful young* mother, who had come 
in her joy. Besides, my evil genius kept whispering* to me to 
keep the bit of ground. I took my own child, my little Lizette 
— she was thought like my nursling — and without saying a word 
— it would have stuck in my throat — I put her into the arms of 
Madame de Pons." 

Lizette was listening* with breathless attention, at times invo- 
luntarily articulating* the words that fell from the lips of the 
dying* woman. 

Finding* her strength failing*, Dame Margaret went on quickly. 
'^ Madame de Pons covered the child with kisses. ^ How pretty 
she is ! ' said she, with all a mother's pride. ^ She is like a child 
of four months old, and she only six weeks ! How delighted 
Albert will be to see her so rosy, so healthy!' But all on a 
sudden — then indeed I trembled — Madame de Pons began to 
undress the child, to look for a little red mark which her baby 
had below the elbow." 

^' Here it is," said Lizette in great agitation, as she pulled up 
her sleeve; "here it is. Heavenly Father, leave me my senses." 

" Hush ! " said the cure, gently laying his hand on the young 
girl's arm. 

" The lady's-maid relieved me from my embarrassment," con- 
tinued the nurse ; " for, as you may well guess, the red mark 
was not to be found. ^ Did I not tell you so, my lady?' cried 
she. ^ I said it was only a heat in the skin, and not the mark of 
a strawberry ; and your ladyship would not believe me ; and now, 
my lady, you see I was right.' ^ Oh, what happiness to have her 
so strong, so healthy! ' was the only answer of Madame de Pons. 
' How could I have ventured to hope it with such delicate health 
as I have always had. But I cannot leave her again ; I will 
stay here till she is to be weaned.' And this, sir, was the way I 
changed the children." 

The nurse ceased speaking. There was a profound silence, 
which Lizette was the first to break. "And you are not my 
mother 1 " 

" But I love you as if I were. Had it not been for me, for my 
cares, you would have died. Lizette, Lizette," said the poor 
woman, clasping her trembling hands, " be not more inexorable 
than the God before whom I am about to appear. Forgive, for- 
give me." 

" I do, I do," said Lizette, throwing herself, bathed in tears, 
into the arms of her nurse ; " for it was ^^ou who made me so big 
and strong ; you loved me, you made me happy. Are not these 
tears the first you ever caused to flow 1 Be at peace, my own 



poor mother ; far from- vexing" your last moments, your child 
blesses you.'' 

" You are a o^ood and g-enerous girl," said the cure to Lizette. 
" As for you, Dame Margaret, though you have done a grievous 
wrong, Madame de Pons will scarcely blame you, since you have 
saved her child.'' 

"■ But I gave her my own child," interrupted Dame Margaret; 
^^ and now I must die without one look at her, without one kiss 
of her sweet lips." 

^'Am I not your child too, mother?" said Lizette in a tone 
of soft reproach. 

" Blessings be on your head, my child, for that one sweet word ; 
it makes death less bitter." Her voice now failed her, and in a 
few moments she had ceased to breathe. 


One forenoon, shortly after the death of Dame Margaret, a 
young country girl descended from a diligence which had just 
arrived at the place of its destination in Paris. Her dress was 
the costume of the peasantry of Marseilles. A short petticoat 
displayed a pretty pair of ankles, and two small feet in black 
shoes, with silver buckles. A clear muslin handkerchief trimmed 
with lace gave to view a neck embrowned by the noonday sun, 
while a little cap, surmounted by a large hat of black felt, with a 
broad gold band, shaded a iine and marked countenance. The 
diligences in France do not set down their passengers in the open 
street, as is the custom with stage-coaches in England. They 
drive into a spacious courtyard, to which no strangers for mere 
curiosity are admitted, and therefore the passengers are not in- 
commoded by a crowd. Lizette, as the young girl was who had 
now arrived in Paris, having* received her trunk, and had 
it examined by the attendant custom-house officers,* felt herself 
alone and friendless, and sat down to comjoose her feelings before 
venturing out to the long* busy streets of which she had seen 
something in coming* through the city. How long she mig-ht 
have sat ruminating on the object of her enterprise, is uncertain ; 
her meditations were suddenly broken in upon by the abrupt 
request of one of the clerks, that she would move out of the way. 
Aroused by the discourteous order, the poor g*irl proceeded to 
procure a porter, and asked him to show her the way to the house 
of Madame de Pons in the Rue de Rivoli ; and, as if to prove 

* More correctly, officers of tlic octroi. The octroi is a tax collected 
in every French town for the benefit of the municipality ; it is levied in 
the form of a duty on certain articles entering the town ; and so rigorously 
is this exacted, that the appointed officers search the trunks of travellers, 
and even tlie baskets which the country peoj^le bring to market. An 
enormous sum is thus raised annually by the octroi duties in Paris. 


that she was not mistaken in the address^ she drew from her 
pocket a letter, and handed it to the porter. 

" It is quite rig'ht ; the very thing*/' said he : " follow me/' 
And taking" up the luggage, he proceeded, accompanied by the 
girl, in the direction of the Rue de Rivoli. 

Lizette was almost bewildered with the spectacle of the crowded 
streets, the dashing of carriages, and the great height of the 
houses, Avhose tops, to her imagination, seemed to reach the 
clouds. She was also struck with the splendour of the public 
buildings ; and when the porter conducted her through the 
arcades of the Palais Royal, gay with the most elegant shops, 
and picturesque from the spouting of the jets-d'eau, she thought 
she was in a place of enchantment. " How delightful it will be 
for me to come often to see these grand scenes," said she to her- 
self, "scenes from which I have been so long kept by an impos- 
tor. I shall now soon see this daughter of a |)easant who has 
so long enjoyed my fortune, my name, and my mother's caresses. 
How proud the girl must be ! With what a patronising' air she 
will receive me ! — but what pleasure it will be to humble her by 
giving her this letter from the cure ! Oh, how mortified she will 
be when she reads the dying confession of Dame Margaret ! " 
Indulging such thoughts of bitterness, Lizette followed her 
guide out of the Palais Royal into the Rue St Honore, along 
which she had to go for some way. The sight of the church of 
St Roche arrested her attention, and gave a salutary turn to 
her feelings, and the young girl exclaimed, " Oh, what a vile 
creature I am ! What bad thoughts I have been cherishing ! 
What, shall I, who am about to deprive her of everything, shall 
I insult her? Will she not have grief enough? Cruel that 
I am ; may God forgive me ! I must perform my devotions," 
said she, turning quickly to the guide ; " wait here for me one 

" And welcome, miss," said the porter. " I am answerable for 
your luggage," added he, as he showed his badge. 

The young girl ascended the steps of the church ; and as she 
knelt before the altar, with eyes fixed upon the letter, which she 
still held in both hands, murmured, " Oh, my God, give me 
strength for this hour ! — teach me words to say to my mother 
that she may acknowledge me, that she may love me ; for how 
can a poor girl brought up in the country know how to speak to 
a great lady! And oh, my God, soften my heart, and teach 
me to look kindly upon her who has usurped my place, and 
give me gentle words to say to her. It was not her fault that 
she robbed me of everything. Make me kind to her, oh, very 
kind to her, for I am about to make her very unhappy. I am 
about to deprive her of one mother, and I have not another to 
give her — Dame Margaret is dead." This recollection made her 
tears flow afresh, and Lizette — for so we shall still call her — re- 
mained for some moments as if overwhelmed by the many con- 



fiicting' feelings that agitated her. At length, relieved by the 
tears which she now freely shed, she left the church, and finding- 
the porter where she had left him, both turned into the Eue de 

When Lizette reached the door, w^hen her foot was on the 
threshold of her mother's house, that house which she was about 
to enter as a stranger, her heart sank within her. But, sum- 
moning all her courage, she ascended the steps boldly, and, like 
most timid persons, who, having by a violent effort overcome 
their natural character, overact their part, she rang until she 
broke the bell. The startled footman ran to open the door, and 
when he saw only a country girl and a porter with a small trunk, 
he said somevv^hat roughly, " What business have you to ring in 
such a way 1 " 

" I want to see Madame de Pons," answered Lizette, affecting 
a confidence which was fast forsaking her. 

"Who in the world is ringing in such a way? I am sure it 
must wake my lady,'' said a waiting-maid in a very sharp tone, 
who now made her appearance ; when, suddenly perceiving the 
costum.e of Lizette, she added more civilly, " From Marseilles 1 
Are you the daughter of Dame Margaret?" 

The title of daughter of Dame Margaret seemed to arouse all 
the pride which Lizette had struggled so hard to subdue, and 
she answered, " I am the foster-sister of her whom you call Made- 
moiselle de Pons." 

" Whom we call Mademoiselle de Pons ! Well, that is droll 
enough, my little country girl. Wait here, child ; I will go 
to Mademoiselle. How delighted she will be to see her little 
Lizette ; she is always talking of her ! " 

" Do not tell her too suddenly, Gertrude," said the footman ; 
^^ you knovvT how nervous our young lady is.'^ 

" Does the man think I am a fool?" returned the maid rather 
angrily ; " do not I know better than you can tell me the state 
of Mademoiselle Clotilda's nerves? Make your mind easy, I 
will tell her the good news without doings her any harm ; wait 
here for me, my good girl." 

" How much she is beloved and respected," thought Lizette. 
^' At length, then, I shall see her and speak to her ! " 

After the lapse of five minutes, which appeared as many ages 
to the impatience of the young girl, the distant rustle of a silk 
dress was heard, and Lizette fixed her eyes with a feeling that 
was almost terror on the door through which Gertrude had 
disappeared. It opened, and a tall and beautiful creature ran 
forward with extended arms, exclaiming-, " Lizette, Lizette ; 
w^elcome, welcome, my sister" — and taking both her hands with 
the most winning tenderness, she again said, " Welcome, most 
^velcome ! How thankful I am that God put it into your heart to 
come to us ! How is my nurse ? But what is the matter 1 Have 
you no kiss for me ? Surely you are not afraid of me ?" 


Lizette was confounded. She was not prepared for sucli a 
reception, and if her gentle and ingenuous nature had ever har- 
boured one feeling of hatred and resentment against her v/ho 
had so innocently usurped her place, it gave way before these 
tender manifestations of spontaneous affection. 

^' Dame Margaret is dead," answered Lizette. She had scarcely 
uttered the words, when she felt caressing arms around her neck, 
and the pressure of soft lips in an affectionate kiss. " Alas, alas ! 
but together we will weep for her," murmured Clotilda. " My 
poor nurse ! And you came off to us at once : you knew you 
would find here a mother, and a sister too. Is it not so? How 
I love you for the thought ! Yes, you are my sister, and every- 
body here must love, respect, and obey you. Do you hear 
me ?" added she, turning to the servants who had been drawn 
into the passage by this little scene ; " this is a second Made- 
moiselle de Pons : we have shared the same milk ; I deprived 
her of the half of her mother's caresses and cares ; surely she 
has every right to the half of all that belongs to me. I must 
except, however, the half of my mother's love," said she, in- 
terrupting herself with somewhat of the air of a spoiled child ; 
" but I will give you some little portion of it^ Lizette, so do not 
be uneasy." 

'^ Oh, if I could but see her !" said poor Lizette, almost gasp- 
ing for breath. 

" See my mother ! " said Clotilda ; " you cannot see her yet ; 
she is in bed ; but come with me." 

Lizette shrank back, and Clotilda now perceived the porter, and 
she instantly ordered that he should be paid and dismissed. " Come, 
come, dear sister," said she ; " the joy of seeing you is too much 
for me. I feel quite faint ; but I care not, it is all delight." And 
taking Lizette's hand, she led her through some splendidly-fur- 
nished rooms into a small apartment, where wealth had collected 
all that could be conceived most luxuriously useful, and most 
uselessly luxurious. " Now you are in my quarters," said Clo- 
tilda, as with gentle force she made Lizette sit down in a large 
arm-chair, and took a seat on a stool at her feet. " This is my 
sitting-room, on the right is my bed-room, on the left my study ; 
at the end of that alcove is a door opening into Gertrude's room ; 
but I will send her to sleep elsewhere, and I will give you her 
room, so that we shall be together night and day. But perhaps 
you may not be a sound sleeper, and I may disturb you; I am 
so often so very ill during the night : I have such bad health, 
the slightest exertion brings on fever ; feel my hand now, is it 
not burning 1 — all from the delight of seeing you. Any painful 
emotion must kill me, I am persuaded; and therefore "^it is that 
every one tries to spare me the least vexation. Everybody tries 
to please me, no one contradicts me, so that I am quite spoiled. 
But this delicacy I inherit from mamma. My father had a 
strong constitution, at least I have been told so; for, alas! I 



never knew him ; he died of a fall from his horse about two years 
after I was born. But how well you are looking! What fine 
rosy cheeks you have g'ot, and your arms so firm, so rounded P' 
added Clotilda, playfully patting* Lizette's cheek. " How happy 
you must be ! It is so sad to be ill, and I am always ill. But 
you do not answer me. What is the matter ? You are cold, re- 
served. Do you not love me ?" 

" I am only just arrived,'^ stammered Lizette, " and I do not 
yet know you.^' 

'^ And do I know more of you 1 When two children have been 
fed with the same milk, and have slept in the same cradle, do 
they, when they meet, require ag-es in order to love each other ? 
You are a naughty girl, Lizette, for that speech. Kiss me. Now 
I will have it so; contradiction alwa^^s makes me ill.'' 


Lizette was deeply affected by the sweet caresses of Clotilda., 
who, as a being all sentiment and of the most delicate health, 
seemed to the country girl something different from ordinary 
mortals. There was novelty in every look and expression of 
the gentle creature, and as Lizette yielded to her embrace, she 
timidly returned her friendly kiss. Clotilda, now rising, made 
Lizette stand up with her, and placed her before a mirror, crying, 
" You see you are exactly my size ; my frocks will fit you. Your 
style of dress is pretty, but you must change it for my sake. I 
should wish so much to see you dressed like me.'' And at this 
moment, in obedience to a feminine instinct, the two young girls 
cast at one another a furtive glance of rapid survey. 

As Clotilda had remarked, all in Lizette breathed health. Her 
polished forehead, her finely-proportioned figure, which, though 
tall and robust, was still perfect in its symmetry ; her roseate 
cheeks, her large sparkling black eyes ; her whole person, in 
short, with its young healthful beauty, was a striking contrast 
to the languid and delicate appearance which Clotilda presented. 
Of equal height with Lizette, her fragile form seemed bending, 
yet gracefully bending, under suffering, which clouded her fair 
face, and obscured the brilliancy of her beautiful eyes ; while her 
long' black hair gave to her cheek a pale and sickly hue. Her 
voice, which, when she began to speak, had somewhat of feverish 
excitement, became by degrees almost inaudible, and her last 
words died upon her lips. 

The mutual survey caused a momentary silence ; and Lizette, 
steeling herself against the emotion with which the sight of the 
suffering Clotilda and her touching* kindness inspired her, reite-- 
rated her desire to see Madame de Pons. 

" Impossible just now, dear girl," answered Clotilda, as she 
leant for support on the shoulder of Lizette ; " we must not go 



to mamma's room till noon. Oh, what a simpleton I am ! not to 
be able to bear any event, sad or g^ay. My heart is beating- — 
beating so that I can scarcely breathe. I am sure I shall die 
suddenly some day. But here I am chattering* ; I am listening- 
only to myself, thinking* only of myself; and this poor child, so 
g-rave, so silent, while in my selfishness I am making her get up 
and sit down, without ever inquiring if she wants anything\ 
Are you hungry ? Are you thirsty ? Would you like to undress, 
to lie down for a little while ? I believe I am bewildering you," 
resumed she, laughing with charming naivete. 

" Oh, I want nothing — only to see Madame de Pons," again 
said Lizette, clasping her hands almost despairingly. 

" Well, I will go and try if we can see her. Perhaps you have 
some message for her from my poor nurse 1 That letter, I sup- 
pose, is for mamma V^ said Clotilda, extending her hand for the 
document, so important to Lizette ; but perceiving the almost 
convulsive grasp with which she still retained it, she resumed — ■ 
'^ You wish to give it to her yourself? Well, just as you like ; I 
will not contradict you. But, as in any case you cannot see 
mamma for an hour, take off your hat, let down your hair ; do 
here just as you would at home. I will go and see if mamma 
be awake. But you will be lonely ; here is a book for you to 

Lizette, for the first time in her life, experienced a feeling of 
shame. She, who had come to the house so proud of her newly- 
discovered birth, so haughtily determined to assert her rights, 
and to mortify her who had usurped her place, now suddenly 
felt the inferiority resulting from the want of education ; but, too 
proud to dissemble, she coldly said, while her cheek crimsoned, 
and her eyes sought the ground, " I do not know how to read." 

Clotilda suffered an exclamation of surprise to escape her ; 
then, in generous fear of having wounded Lizette, she took her 
in her arms, and, while lavishing upon her almost infantine 
caresses, cried, " Forgive me, forgive me ! Not for worlds would 
I have made you blush. But why should you be ashamed, sweet 
pet '? It is only because you were not taught to read, that is all, 
so never mind. But do not tell it to any one else, I beg- of you ; 
for there are people who would be stupid enough to laugh at 
you, and this would so grieve me. I will teach you myself to 
read — would you like it ? — and to write too, and to sing, and to 
draw, and do everything that I can do. Tell me, do tell me, would 
you like it ?" 

At this fresh instance of disinterested affection and angelic 
goodness, Lizette felt all the icy barriers give way. Ever since 
the extraordinary declaration of Dame Margaret, she had expe- 
rienced neither peace nor happiness. Her mind had been in a 
constant tumult, her better nature struggling with an ambition 
of which she had previously had no experience. It was a war 
of Passion and Principle, victory now inclining to one side, and 



now to the other, but principle on the whole maintaining" its 
sway in the conflict. The kindness of Clotilda, so unexpected, 
and, in a great degree, undeserved, gave new force to Principle. 
Had she been received with the cold indifference she had almost 
anticipated, the consciousness of injury would have caused her 
unhesitating'ly to proclaim the object of her visit, and, in strict 
justice, she would have been right. But justice, unblended with 
compassion — with the charity which suifereth long, and is kind 
— what miseries may not be produced in its name ; how often 
may it miscalculate and overshoot the mark ! Lizette was no 
casuist. Without staying to reckon with what advantage the 
blow of justice might be suspended, she felt that it would be 
cruel to undeceive and render miserable the sensitive being 
who, with a kindness as uncalculating as her own, had offered 
to communicate the accomplishments of which she was so defi- 
cient. Instead of pronouncing the death warrant of the fragile 
creature in the words — " Go, thou who hast hitherto lived in 
thy happiness, surrounded by the fond cares of love. Go, thou 
who hast had till this moment a mother, wealth, illustrious 
name. Go, thou whose tender arms are still entwined around 
me : I am come to strip thee of everything — to take from thee 
mother, wealth, name" — she gazed once more on the pale face 
of Clotilda ; and, abandoning herself to the impulses of her noble 
nature, excited to the utmost, she in her turn took her foster- 
sister in her arms, and, covering her cheek with kisses and with 
tears, exclaimed, " Keep all, keep all ; you are more worthy of 
all than I am." 

"What am I to keep, dear girl?" said Clotilda in some sur- 
prise. "Have you kindly brought me some souvenir from 

" I believe that I am mad," said Lizette, hiding her face in her 

" Mademoiselle," said Gertrude, gently opening the door, " my 
lady is asking for you. She has heard of the arrival of Dame 
Margaret's daughter, and wishes to see her." 

" Heavenly Father, forsake me not ! " murmured Lizette ; and 
her trembling limbs almost refused their office, as she arose to 
obey the summons. 

" Stay here a moment," said Clotilda, as soon as they reached 
the door of her mother's room. " Mamma's first glance, as well 
as her first caress, must be mine." And she bounded into the 
room, while Lizette, involuntarily obeying the order, remained 
near the half-open door, following the movements of the young 
girl with a gaze into which her whole soul had passed. Clotilda 
approached the bed, drew back the curtains, and Lizette looked 
upon the face of her mother. At the same instant a voice fell 
upon her ear— the voice of her mother. Oh, if Lizette were not 
at that moment at her feet, if she did not avow herself, if she did 
not cry, " Mother, mother, I am your child ! " it was because the 



mig'hty emotion she experienced left her powerless to speak or 

"Well, dearest, what have you done with Lizette?" asked 
Madame de Pons. 

Ever}'- pulse of Lizette's heart responded to this name uttered 
by her mother. She rushed into the room. At the first glance, 
Madame de Pons started, and exclaimed, "Those eyes! those 
eyes ! what a wonderful resemblance ! " 

""Who is she like?" inquired Clotilda, alternately glancing" 
from her mother^s agitated countenance to Lizette's large black 

" She has your father's eyes," said Madame de Pons — " your 
father's eyes. Oh, why should a stranger have those eyes, and 
not my Clotilda, my child, the child of our love ? Come to me, 
Lizette; do not cast down your eyes; look up at me — again — 
again — that glance at once revives and kills me. Poor child ! 
But who is weeping there?" asked Madame de Pons in sudden 

Clotilda had thrown herself into a chair, and was weeping 

"What is the matter, my child?" cried her mother, as she 
caught her hand. 

" I am weeping that I have not my father's eyes, which 
Heaven has given to Lizette and denied to me," said Clotilda, 
with a look of deep sorrow. " You will now love Lizette better 
than me, and look at her more often." 

" Dearest child," cried Madame de Pons, raising her daughter, 
and straining her to her bosom — "dearest child, what strange 
notion have you taken up ? Oh, do npt weep, I implore of you ; 
you will make yourself ill. Remember the physicians have 
warned you against giving way to emotion. Clotilda, remember 
your health is my health, your life is my life. Do not envj this 
young creature her eyes. See how calmly I can gaze upon them 

Lizette, who had been throughout this scene like one in a 
dream, so entirely had the violence and variety of her emotions 
overwhelmed her, now awoke to consciousness, and her first 
impulse was to conceal the letter which she still held in her 

Madame de Pons perceiving this movement on the part of 
Lizette, asked, " Is it for me, from Dame Margaret ? " 

" Yes — no — no, madam," stammered out Lizette ; and then, as 
if overwrought feeling could no longer be restrained, she burst 
into convulsive sobs, exclaiming, " I have lost my mother ! I 
have lost my mother ! " Exclamation how ill understood ! Nor 
of all present, the poor child alone knew to what immolation of 
self it had doomed her — to what a painful sacrifice it had for 
ever pledged her. 

Self-denying principle had conquered. 




Lizette now took her place in the family of Madame de PonSy 
as the humble friend and foster-sister of the accomplished though 
feeble Clotilda : looking for no advantage, immediate or remote, 
she felt that her fate was not in her own hand, and calmly 
awaited whatever Providence might determine. Faithful to her 
noble disinterestedness, from the time that principle had over- 
come the turbulent passions in her breast, she uttered not a 
word ; suffered not a gesture to escape her which could betray 
either w4iat she was or what she suffered. Her intercourse with 
Clotilda was the calm, and gentle, and grateful reception of the 
lessons, the counsels, the endearments which the generous girl 
delighted to lavish upon her friend and sister. Thus assisted, 
she rapidly acquired the accomplishments of v/hich she had the 
misfortune to be deficient. Clotilda was her constant instructress 
until she required tuition from professors of the different branches 
of female education. Without any obvious or positive claim on 
Madame de Pons, that lady, following the bent of a kind dis- 
position, took charge of her with almost maternal affection, and 
was delighted to observe the progress she made in her studies, 
as well as the improvement in her appearance and manners. No 
longer the rustic belle, Lizette was an accomplished young 
Parisian ; her heart, how^ever, retaining all its original warmth 
and simplicity. 

Accustomed to an hourly intercourse with Clotilda, she learned 
to subdue all restraint in ,her company. But with Madame de 
Pons she never attained this high degree of self-possession. In 
spite of every efibrt, it was difficult and painful to give to her 
trembling voice the tone of mere respect — to school the beam- 
ing glance of affection into the look of mere deference. This 
was indeed a struggle, and a daily, an hourly struggle; for 
never did she behold the mother of whom she had thus a 
second time been deprived, that her heart was not in her eyes, 
upon her lips. This perpetual conflict at length undermined 
her health, and " fat, rosy Lizette,'^ as Clotilda had laughingly 
called her — while with ready tact catching up the refinement of 
habit and manner, and the accomplishments of her foster-sister 
— seemed to catch from her also the pale cheek, the bent and 
fragile form, and the pensive look of habitual suffering. Two 
years passed in this way. But there was one eye that noted 
the secret struggle, one Being upon whom was not lost a single 
pang' endured by the heroic young creature in her generous self- 
sacrifice ; and that compassionate God, who alone knew how 
severe was the trial, ordained that it should be shortened. 

The events of the "three days" of July 1830, which caused 
such political changes in France, led also to much private and 


family distress. The house of Madame de Pons was not imme- 
diately within the sphere of commotion, and that lady might 
have escaped any injury had it not heen her misfortune to be 
returning" home from a visit she had been making on the Boule- 
vards, when the popular ferment frst assumed the appearance 
of a revolt. Alarmed with the shouts which were raised, and 
the report of distant hring, she requested her coachman to drive 
by a little frequented thoroughfare to the Eue Rivoli ; but this 
proved an unfortunate movement. The line she had taken con- 
ducted her nearly into the heart of a fray^ caused b}^ the seizure 
of the office of a journalist by the police". The officers and sol- 
diers sent to execute this unpleasant duty, though not opposed 
on the spot, were not suffered to escape popular indignation. A 
barrier was raised across the street, and in endeavouring to pass 
it, they were met by a steady fire of musketry from windows 
and other quarters, which obliged them to retreat and seek egress 
in another direction. 

Into the midst of this uproar, the carriage of Madame de Pons 
was almost driven ; and in hurriedly wheeling to return, it was 
overset with a crash on the pavement. The disaster drew for a 
moment the attention of the crowd, and the poor lady was lifted 
with compassion from her perilous situation into a neighbouring 
cafe. At lirst she was thought to be killed, but she had only 
swooned, and every effort was humanely made to restore her to 

Meanwhile, the absence of Madame de Pons had caused the 
greatest alarm to Clotilda and Lizette. Rumours of the com- 
motion and booming reports of musketry reached the Rue 
Rivoli, and scarcely could the two girls be restrained from rush- 
ing forth, each animated with the same acute feelings, to seek for 
her beloved parent. Prevented by the less fervid domestics from 
taking this dangerous and useless step, they stationed themselves 
in the balcony to watch her arrival. 

" Oh support me in this dreadful moment, dear Lizette," said 
the agonised Clotilda. " If mamma should be injured, I know 
I shall die. I am almost dead already. Let me lean upon you. 
Plow my heart beats ! Ah, did you hear that noise ? It is a 
cannon on the Boulevards. And how is my mother to get home ? 
O God, guard her in this dreadful peril." So saying, the frail 
being sunk into a seat overcome with the force of her emotions. 

Lizette, with feelings wound up to a similar pitch, was not less 
anxious for the safety of her mother ; but still keeping down the 
confession of her sufferings, she bore herself through this trying 
crisis with the heroism of a martyr. Her heart, laid on the altar 
of Principle, burnt with a pure and steady flame. Affecting a 
calmness in her agitation, she beseeched Clotilda to compose her- 
self, and tried to show her that Madame de Pons would certainly 
be safe among her friends, and that at any rate, it was not much 
beyond the time she was to return. 


" All, it is easy for you to speak so calmly/' said Clotilda ; 
" slie is not your motlier ; if she were, perhaps you would feel 

Lizette drew her breath convulsively, and pressed her hand 
on her eyes : for a moment she was almost tempted to declare 
with what justice she was entitled to feel acutely on account of 
Madame de Pons. But it was only for a moment. The brig^ht 
sunshine of mind resumed its power of banishing" these dark 
thoug-hts, and looking out on the street beneath, she cried with 
vivacity — " Look, dear Clotilda, did I not say that your mamma 
would soon appear ; and there is the carriage turning" the corner 
of the Rue des Pyramids.'' 

And sure enough there was the carriage; but it was pro- 
ceeding slowly, as if some accident had occurred ; and the two 
girls, nearly frantic with mingled hopes and fears, ran down 
stairs, and reached the door in time to see Madame de Pons 
lifted out to all appearance lifeless. At this sight Lizette for an 
instant forgot everything, and exclaimed, "My mother! my 
mother! — I have lost my mother! — she is dead!" Clotilda 
uttered a piercing cry of agony, and fell into the arms of her 

Except a slight bruise, Madame de Pons had not suifered any 
personal injury. She had only fainted on the occasion of the 
accident, and again fainted when about to see her daughter. A 
physician being sent for, she was immediately restored ; but not 
for an hour was she permitted to speak to those about her. As 
soon as her feelings were calmed, she asked for her daughter. 

" If you please, my lady," said the waiting-maid, " Made- 
moiselle Clotilda has been so much alarmed, that it would be 
more prudent not to see her just now. If your ladyship would 
lie down for an hour or two longer, my young lady would by 
that time be more composed." 

" You are quite right, Gertrude," said Madame de Pons. 
" Implore of her from me to be calm. Doctor," said she, " pray 
go to my daughter ; she requires your care more than I do." 

The soft sweet voice of Lizette assuring her that Madame de 
Pons had only fainted from alarm, and w^as now quite well, had 
just recalled Clotilda to consciousness, when the physician entered. 
He found her very ill : the shock had been too great ; and that 
weak frame and tender nature had wholly given way.' The 
doctor ordered a composing draught, and left her to the care of 

" Dear Lizette," said Clotilda, " I am dying. It is very young 
to die — to leave my mother, my sister. My head is quite con- 
fused. Was it a dream, or did I indeed hear you say, ' Mother, 
mother,' when mamma was brought in fainting ? At this instant 



memory recalls a thousand times wlien your lips appeared form- 
ing the word ' mother ;^ and then your face suddenly crimsoned. 
How many confused recollections crowd upon me at this moment. 
What can it mean ? Those eyes ! that marvellous resemblance I 
Am I mad? Merciful Heaven! there have been such thing's as 
children changed at nurse. Lizette, you answer not — you hesi- 
tate — you are torturing me! Speak! speak! You would kill 
me^ if my mother's fainting form had not already broken my 

Lizette threw herself, weeping, into Clotilda's arms. 

" Ah, you will not speak : you fear to tell me the dreadful 
reality. But remember, suspense, suspense is tenfold suffering." 

'- Be calm, dearest ; be calm. When you are well again, I will 
explain all," said Lizette, and fondly caressing her, endeavoured 
to soothe her into something like composure. 

"I know all!" exclaimed she with almost frenzied excite- 
ment. " That letter ! that letter contained the fatal secret. I 
see it all. For two years, sweet angel, you have been content to 
receive at my hands v/hat was yours, and not one word said, 
' What you give is my own.' You have sacrificed everything to 
me. And while I was robbing you of a mother's affection, of a 
mother's caresses, you suffered, you wept in silence. For often 
have I seen you weep ; and, mad and selfish as I was, I guessed 
not, I knew not. Lizette, I may restore all to you ; but how 
atone for those two years of disinterested self-sacrifice ? My life, 
my life is a cheap purchase for the happiness you permitted me 
to enjoy. Lizette, I am dying." 

"Oh, my sister, do not thus reproach yourself," exclaimed 
Lizette, pressing Clotilda to her bosom; "thou hast been an 
angel to me. I came to brave thee, and thy gentle goodness dis- 
armed me. I resisted thy caresses, and thou didst but redouble 
them. I was rude and ignorant ; and all that I am, and all that 
I enjoy, I owe to thee. Thou hast given me more than I could 
give to thee." 

"Thy heart is like thy sweet face, my own sister," con- 
tinued Clotilda, with her tearful eyes fixed upon Lizette ; " but 
tell me how I deserved from thee so vast a sacrifice. Didst thou 
love me before we saw each other in Paris ?" 

" I did not love thee then, Clotilda, forgive me ; I did not love 
thee ; but was this a reason that I should kill thee, and .thou so 
frail, so delicate?" 

The two young creatures were silent for some moments. 
Locked in each other's arms, they were mingling their tears, 
when the approach of a light step made them both start. " It is 
my mother I " exclaimed both at the same instant ; but Clotilda 
repeated, in a tone of bitter anguish, " My mother ! I have no 
mother ! " 

" Hush, sweet sister," whispered Lizette ; " why need we un- 
deceive her?" 



Clotilda spoke not, but looked her gratitude, and that look 
thrilled to the very heart of Lizette. The door opened, and 
Madame de Pons entered. " I have alarmed thee, my child/^' 
said she ; and then, startled in her turn by the change that had 
passed upon that fair young" face, she cried in terror, '•^ Be calm, 
dear child, the doctor will he here soon ; oh, be calm, sweet Clo- 
tilda ; drive me not to despair. Have pity on thy poor mother.'^ 

" Mother ! " murmured Clotilda almost inaudibly, laying- her 
head upon the bosom of Madame de Pons, w^ho now gave Avay to 
convulsive sobs— " Mother, I die in thine arms; I die happy. 
Blessing's on thee, Lizette ; blessings on thee. Forgive me \ be 
happy in thy turn.'^ 

The dying girl extended her hand to her foster-sister. Lizette 
covered it with kisses and tears. And now the arms of Madame 
de Pons clasped only a lifeless corpse. She was forcibly torn 
from the remains of the desire of her eyes thus taken from her 
at a stroke, and carried to her own apartment ; and there, when 
in a paroxysm of despair, she exclaimed, " I have nothing now 
to live for. My child ! my child ! Alas ! alas ! I have now no 
child." Lizette, throwing herself at her mother's feet, pre- 
sented to her the letter that contained the confession of Dame 
Margaret, and Madame de Pons fell fainting at her side. 

Need it be added that, on her recovery^ Madame de Pons was 
thankful for being spared such a child in the place of her dear 
Clotilda; and that the amiable Lizette enjoyed the reward^she 
so richly merited, in having so long and so piously sacrificed 
Passion to Principle. 




Thomson. — Mr Jones^ do you happen to know anything" of life- 
assurance 1 My wife's father has lately been speaking" to me of 
it, as a thing calculated to he useful to me. But I must candidly 
say, although I have seen all kinds of advertisements on the sub- 
ject in newspapers and under the covers of magazines, I am still 
as ignorant of it as if I were an infant. 

Jones, — If that is the case, Mr Thomson, I would recommend 
your giving the subject some attention immediately ; for, as you 
are a recently-married man, with children beginning to drop in 
upon you, you are quite the sort of person to whom it should not 
be unknown. 

Thomson. — I am willing enough to know a little of it, Mr Jones, 
but don't know how that is to be brought about. Somehow, 
whenever I look into an encyclopaedia for anything', I find they 
tell me so much, and go so deeply into it, that I remain about 
as ignorant as I was. PerhajDS you can give me such an off- 
hand account of life-assurance as I can understand ? 

Jones. — I am willing" at least to try ; but let me remark in the 
first place, that I don't like to hear you, or any other man, com- 
plaining of the difficulty of understanding what you read of in 
books. There are many subjects which no writer on earth could 
make intelligible at merely a superficial reading. When a sub- 
ject is out of the common line, involving calculations and com- 
plicated details, we cannot expect to run over it as glibly as 
No. 44. 1 


a fairy tale, and yet catcli up its whole sense and bearings. In 
such a case, I humbly conceive we ought to exercise a little 
patience, and give a degree of attention proportioned to the 
nature of the subject ; albeit, I own, it is well that every writer 
should endeavour, on the other hand, to make himself as readily 
understood as possible. 

Thomson, — Well, I daresay you are right, Mr Jones; but still 
I think I should be much more likely to understand life-assur- 
ance if you were to tell me about it ly word of mouthj than if I 
were to read about it in any book whatever. I know you are 
acquainted with the subject, for I have often seen your name in 
the list of directors of one of the societies. 

Jones, — Yes, I have a general acquaintance with it, from long 
connexion with its business ; but if I attempt to sketch the sub- 
ject as you propose, you must allow me to introduce a few state- 
ments of an arithmetical kind, without which it could not be 
made intelligible. On that condition, I shall do my best. 

Thomson. — Agreed, so that you don't take me too deep ; for I 
fairly tell 3^ou beforehand I cannot follow you there. 

Jones, — Well, well (smiling)^ I shall endeavour to be as shallow 
as possible. You of course know the nature of the benefits sought 
for from life-assurance ? Not distinctly ? Well, they are simply 
these. The most common case is when a man, such as yourself, 
wishes that his widow, children, or other , dependent relatives, 
should have a certain sum secured for their use, in the event of 
his being suddenly removed from the midst of them. Another 
not unusual case is where a creditor, fearin^* that his debtor mav 
be long in paying him, or may die before he acquires the ability 
to discharge his debts, assures that, at the debtor's death, he 
may receive a sum sufficient to cover the debt. There are other 
uses for life-assurance ; but the first of these is the principal ; 
namely, to make provision for helpless persons against the pos- 
sible sudden death of the person on whom they depend. 

Thomson. — But how can such benefits be secured ? It is all 
very well for a man to secure a good round sum for his widow 
or children ; but either he must pay an equivalent, and therefore 
would be no benefiter, or the office must be a loser by him? 

Jones, — Neither is the case. The beauty of life-assurance is, 
that you or any man may, for a small sum, secure these desired 
benefits ; and yet no one is, or can be, a loser by him. 

Thomson. — What ! That seems to me self-contradictory. But 
explain yourself. 

Jones, — Your remark, Mr Thomson, only shows that life-assur- 
ance is yet little understood even amongst the classes to whom 
it holds forth most advantage. I could almost wish to see a 
peculiar class of missionaries going about to make it known to 
all such as you. But to proceed. Life-assurance is, in its fun- 
damental principle, like a benefit society. A certain number 
of persons club payments, that those who die within a certain 


time may receive — or rather that their heirs may receive — the 
ag'gT'Cgate among'st them. Here every one takes his chance. 
Each pays a small sum, that, in a certain conting^ency, he may 
get back a large one. Though the occasion for getting the large 
sum should not arise, he has still had value for his money, for 
he has been assured that, in the event of his death, the large sum 
would have been realised. The non-receivers are therefore no 
losers, while the heirs of the deceased are, I may say, enriched. 

Thomson. — All this I can understand. But you speak rather 
ideally than formally. Please tell me what the arrangements 
actually are. 

Jones. — With pleasure. Life-assurance depends, then, upon 
what is comparatively a modern discovery amongst mankind ; 
namely, that life, while proverbially uncertain in the individual, 
is determined with respect to a multitude ; being governed, like 
everything else in nature, by fixed laws. It is found that, out 
of any large number of persons at a particular age. the deaths 
during the ensuing year will be a certain number. Suppose v/e 
take ten thousand Englishmen of the age of 52, we are as sure as 
we are of times of eclipses, and the rising of the sun and moon, 
that the deaths amongst them in the next year will be just about 
150. This is learned from experience ; that is, by the keeping 
of tables of mortality. The number is liable to be different in 
different countries and in different ages. In England, a century 
ago, when the circumstances in which the people lived were less 
favourable to health, there would have been a greater mortality 
than 150. So also would there probably be in some other Euro- 
pean countries at the present time. But, taking Eng-land as it 
is, such is a specimen of what experience tells us respecting the 
chances of death amongst our population. Of course, amongst 
ten thousand younger persons, the deaths are fewer ; and of older 
persons, more. Every age has, in short, its proportion. 

Thomson. — I have heard something of this before. But how 
does it serve for the business of life-assurance ? 

Jones. — Why, simply thus. Supposing that ten thousand per- 
sons at the age of 52 were disposed to associate for the purpose of 
making sure that the heirs of all those who died within a year 
should have each £1000. It would only be necessary, in that 
case, for each person to contribute as much to a common fund 
as would make up the sum of £150,000, or a thousand times 150 ; 
that is to say, each of the ten thousand persons would require 
to pay in £15. With a small additional allowance for the ex- 
pense of transacting the business, the resulting sum of £150,000 
would serve to give the representatives of each deceased party 
the desired £1000. This is still so far an ideal case. But 
it is easy to suppose a large number of persons at all ages, 
or at least at certain ages determined on, say between 15 and 
60, paying into a common fund, each according to his age, and 
the sum he wished secured ; and then we should have a'mutual 



assurance society at once ; there being* only this additional fea- 
ture, that generally men do not insure for one year only (though 
this is possible), but for the whole remainder of their lives ; for 
which reason an average is struck, and they begin paying at a 
rate which will continue the same to the end, the excess of pay- 
ment in the early years making up for its smallness in those near 
the close of life. Such being the common practice, life-assurance 
societies necessarily accumulate large funds, which they require 
to improve at interest in safe investments, in order that the most 
postponed engagements may be made good in due time. 

Thomson. — But does not this introduce another element into 
the business ? The result must be in some degree aifected by the 
rate at which you improve the money. 

Jones. — Doubtless ; and I am glad to hear you make the re- 
mark, as it shows you are following me. Besides calculating 
the probable rate of mortality, the conductors of life-assurance 
business must have tolerably certain prospects with reg'ard to 
the interest which they are to obtain for their funds. Suppose 
they can make sure of four per cent, at an average — and this, I 
believe, is below what is usually realised — they have to calculate 
accordingly. A depression of the rate of interest is of course as 
unfav6urable to the interests of a life-assurance society, as would 
be a rise in the rate of mortality. 

Thomson. — I can readily imagine all that, without your going 
into details. But are there not different modes of conducting 
life-assurance business, as far as concerns the managing parties ? 

Jones. — Yes. Life-assurance offices are of two leading kinds. 
Sometimes we have a joint-stock company coming forward with 
a large subscribed capital, and professing to undertake risks 
upon lives, looking of course for a profit upon their transactions. 
Other offices are upon the principle of what is called mutual 
assurance ; that is, the parties insuring make of their payments 
a common fund, out of which the heirs of deceased members are 

Thomson. — What are the comparative merits of the two plans ? 

Jones. — I shall for the present limit myself to stating the advan- 
tages attributed to them by their respective supporters. By the 
first plan, the insurer has usually to pay according to rates cal- 
culated merely to allow a profit to the company upon the trans- 
action ; that is, the rates are usually moderate. He has also the 
security derived from a subscribed capital and the credit of the 
shareholders. In the second class of offices, the rates are usually 
higher, in order that ' ample scope and verge enough ' may be 
allowed for unfavourable contingencies. But any surplus that 
thus arises belongs to the insuring parties, and is usually em- 
ployed in two ways — first, a portion goes to form a reserve or 
guarantee fund, w^hich may be considered as standing in much 
the same predicament as the capital of a ' company,' though 
seldom so large in amount : second, another, and for the most 



part larger portion, is allocated, at intervals of several years^ 
among the members, who may take advantage of it either in the 
form of an addition to the sum ultimately to be realised by them, 
or as a deduction from their future annual payments, or as a 
sum in hand. The ^companies' boast of their system as the 
safer for the insuring party. The ^ societies' set forth that, while 
all desirable security is given by them, they enable insurers to 
do their own business at prime cost, bating only the office ex- 
penses. The mutual offices are few in comparison with the pro- 
prietary ; but they seem to increase at a greater rate. There are 
also some offices in which the two plans are in some measure 
combined. They are generally called ^ mixed' offices. 

Thomson. — Can you give me any particulars as to rates and 
surpluses? I sometimes observe offices in their advertisements 
laying great stress upon bonuses. 

Jones. — There are some very remarkable instances of benefit 
thus coming to the insured. The Equitable of London is a 
mutual office, dating from 1762. It did a vast amount of business 
at rates formed upon the Northampton tables of mortality, which 
give an unfavourable view of life, and while the state of the 
country was such as to cause accumulated funds to fructify ver}^ 
fast. Accordingly, I was not surprised the other day to hear of 
a ^N^ thousand pounds policy, commenced about forty-five years 
ago, being ultimately expanded to several times its original 
amount.* Mutual offices, with safe rates, and improving their 
money at not less than four ]3er cent., may, if they exercise care 
in selecting their lives, find no great difficulty in placing a bonus 
of one and a half, or two per cent., per annum, to the policies of 
all insured above a few years, besides throwing something re- 
spectable into the guarantee fund. It must be evident that such 
a s^^stem involves a savings' bank besides the business of life- 
assurance. And it will not matter to an insurer that he pays 
liberal rates, if he be satisfied that the extra money will be dis- 
posed of in a way that w^ill turn it to the best account. How- 
ever, there are also mutual offices which proceed upon the 
principle of charging moderate rates, and holding forth less 
temptation in the way of bonus. 

Thomson. -^Yovl speak of care in selecting lives. I was not 
quite unaware of this being deemed necessary, for I remember 
my cousin Wetman being refused admission to a life-assurance 
society, because of his being thought to have suffered a little 

* £100, assured in the London Equitable Society in 1816, had become 
£212 in 1840, twenty-four years after the commencement of the policy. 
Any one who assured £1000 in 1806, had he died in 1840, would have left 
£3020 to Ms heirs. Policies effected in 1796, for £2000, had a bonus or 
addition of £6340 put to them at 31st December 1839, making £8340 in 
ail. A policy effected before May 1777, which survived the year 1839, 
had 657 per cent, added, being between six and seven times its original 



from over-free living*. But do not tables compreliend all kinds 
of lives 1 

Jones. — Of course tliey do ; but it is not on that account 
necessary to admit any unhealthy man who seeks, when too late, 
thus to make provision for those in w^hom he is interested. It is 
necessary, in a society, that all should be presumed as equal in 
point of health ; otherwise they do not start fair. A company, 
again, has its own interest in keeping* out men not likely to live 
their full time. There is therefore gTcat pains taken to ascertain 
of any proposing insurer that his health is good. Usually, one 
schedule of queries is sent to his ordinary medical attendant, 
which he is requested to return filled up. Another is sent for 
the same purpose to some private friend whom he may have 
nominated for the purpose. These interrogatories are generally 
wdth reference to the ordinary state of health of the party, the 
diseases he has had, or is liable to, the health and longevity of 
his relations, particularly parents, and his personal habits. And, 
after all, the proposer is personally examined by a medical officer 
of the company or society, to ascertain as far as possible that 
nothing has been misstated or overlooked by these parties. It 
is but proper to be thus strict, because, if an unhealthy person 
is admitted, an injury so far is done to all the rest of the society. 
There is, however, at least one office in England which gives 
assurances upon invalid lives, charging, of course, premiums 
high in proportion ; and it is quite possible to conduct such a 
business successfully, for there is a law presiding over the de- 
crement of life among invalids, as well as in the bulk of society. 

Thomson. — The lives being, as it were, picked, must, I should 
think, tell upon the funds of the office very materially. 

Jones. — It does. The rates being calculated from tables which 
give safe views even of general life, there is, of course, a greatly 
diminished mortality, and consequently less demand upon the 
funds of the office, when only first-class lives, as they are called, 
are admitted. In one society known to me, the experience of 
mortality during the first twenty years was only 57 per cent, of 
what might have been expected from the mortality tables upon 
which their rates were founded. Consequently, in that office 
large bonuses were given. 

Thomson. — I think I now" understand pretty clearly the prin- 
ciples of life-assurance. Would you give me some idea of the 
practical procedure connected with it, and its results ? 

Jones. — With pleasure. I shall suppose that you are thirty 
years of age, and wish to insure fiye hundred pounds to your 
family in the event of your death. You may effect the assurance 
of this sum in a proprietary office, of sufficient respectability, at 
about £2, 2s. per cent., or £10, 10s. in all. This is a simply com- 
mercial transaction ; a quid pro quo. The company of course looks 
to make a profit on it, and you look to the realisation of the pre- 
cise sum of ^\e hundred pounds. Suppose you prefer becoming 



a member of a mutual society, you will pay, in most of the offices 
of that class, a somewhat higher rate — ranging* from £2, 8s. to 
£2, lis. — or about £12, 10s. in all;* and in that case you will be 
entitled to expect that, should your policy run for ten years, it 
will bear six instead of five hundred pounds ; or you would be 
entitled to have your rate of payment considerably reduced for 
the future. In mutual assurance, there is formally the risk of 
a falling short of funds, and in that case you might be disap- 
pointed of the full sum you had insured ; but practically, there 
is no such danger; for, when well conducted, the business of 
mutual assurance invariabl}^ flourishes ; and there is hardly an 
office of that kind in Britain where you would not be safe from 
everything but a universal ruin of British credit. In fact, not 
only are safe views of mortality always assumed in such offices, 
but there are so many means of- employing the funds to advan- 
tage, that mutual assurance is unlike every other kind of business, 
great prosperity being the rule, instead of the exception. There 
are some, however, who think the guarantee of a trading com- 
pany so desirable, that they ai*e willing to forego ultimate advan- 
tages on that account, or to content themselves at least with 
that share of the profits which certain companies agree to give to 
the assured. 

Thomson. — In what form does a private party receive assurance 
of the payment which he bargains for ? 

Jones. — He receives it in the shape of a bond, on stamped 
paper, usually called a Policy of Assurance, in which the com- 
pany, by its directors, binds itself to make good the sum at the 
decease of the party, provided that decease be not by suicide or 
in a duel, or beyond certain prescribed geographical limits ; pro- 
vided also that the stipulated payments called premium have 
been duly made, and that no untrue averment was made as to 
the state of health and habits of the insured at the date of the 
insurance. The bond of the society, again, binds the several 
members to make good the sum, on the like provisions, but only 
as far as the funds of the body may, at the fall of the policy, be 
sufficient for that purpose. A policy of assurance is usually ob- 
tained on the condition of an annual payment, because this is the 
plan which suits the circumstances of most persons ; but it may 
also be had on the payment of one sum. For instance, a gentle- 
man of 37 3^ears of age will have an assurance for £1000, with 
prospect of large additions, on paying about £450 at a mutual 
office. In the latter case, the policy is at all times a bank-note 
for at least the sum which was paid for it. But, even when it is 
obtained for annual payments, it soon acquires a certain value. 

* One or two mutual offices of recent origin have rates somewhat lower, 
and more nearly abreast with those of the companies, yet still sufficiently 
safe. It may, hov/ever, be held as a ground of presumption against either 
the honesty or prudence of a scheme, if it insures life at thirty years much 
below £2, 2s. per £100, and other ages in proportion, 



For example, an insurer enters, we shall say, at thirty, and has 
paid for ten years. Being* now forty, he has only to pay for the 
remainder of life at the rate proper to thirty, which is much 
smaller. I71 the proportion of the one rate to the other is his 
policy of value. And he can accordingly use it as a security for 
any debt he may incur, or as a means of raising- a loan ; or he 
may sell it for a sum ; which, however, I do not like to see any- 
body do, as it is like killing; the g'oose for the eg-g-s, and can only 
be justified by the pressure of extreme necessity. 

Thomson, — I would like, however, to understand the advantages 
of life-assurance to an individual a little more clearly. If I am a 
healthy person, and live to a good old age, I shall of course pay 
a great deal, and get back nothing ; and perhaps, after all, w^hat is 
got by mj heirs may be much less than I have paid, besides per- 
haps not being needed by them ; for before that time my chil- 
dren may be all well provided for otherwise. I think I have heard 
my neighbour Jackson occasionally indulging in a laugh at life- 
assurance : all outlay, he says, and no return. 

Jones, — And will jou allow yourself to be carried away by 
a thoughtless laugh? Take life-assurance at its own preten- 
sion. It is only a kind of lottery, and does not offer prizes 
to all. Strictly speaking', the surviving pay for the benefits 
given to the dead ; but then who is to say, at the beginning- 
of any year, which are to be the paying, and which the benefit- 
ing parties ? When you conceive of a person paying for forty or 
fifty years, till his aggregate outlay greatly exceeds what hi-s 
heirs ever can receive, you merely think of the blanks in the 
lottery. The fortunate in length of days are the unfortunate in 
the distribution of the funds. But then, consider — though you 
are a young man, you may die to-morrow. Die when you like, 
if you have only just paid your first premium, your heirs are 
entitled to the sum assured. You may be said in that case to 
draw one of the highest jorizes. All having here an equal chance, 
nothing can be more fair. 

Thomson, — Still, it is a lottery, or a species of gambling ; and 
I can imagine a nicely conscientious mind being at first sight a 
little startled by it. 

Jones, — Such is really the case. There are many excellent 
persons who do not think themselves at liberty thus to speculate 
upon the events of Providence. But I humbly think they are 
wrong. If it is a lottery, it is, I w^ould say, one of a legitimate 
and even laudable kind. Taking its rise in one of the most re- 
spectable features of human nature — foresight, or a provision 
against contingent evils — and having most particularly in view 
the succour of the widow and fatherless — it is essentially a moral 
and humane institution. And surely, if it be allowable for any 
man to seek to gather actual property wherewith to endow those 
dependent upon^ him, it is allowable, where that is impossible or 
difficult of attainment, to secure the same end, since it can be 



done, by a combination of means and a brotherly participation of 
risks. 'l contemplate life-assurance, not as an interference in 
any degree with the course of Providence, which some rashly 
assume it to be, but, on the contrary, the taking advantage of a 
means kindly offered by Providence for our benefit. For, consider 
on what it rests. That regularity in the ratio of mortality, with- 
out which there could be no life-assurance, is an institution of 
divine wisdom, as clearly as any other of the great arrangements 
of nature. When we assume this as a guide for certain conduct, 
not in itself reprehensible, we do no more than when we regulate 
a journey by what we know beforehand of the season and the 
length of the day. If we knew from infallible signs that there 
was to be a failure of grain crops five years hence, would it not 
be quite right to save up corn against that time, and thus equalise 
the evil over a wider surface ? Now, if a thousand persons know 
that a certain number of them will die next year, are they not ta 
be at liberty to act upon that knowledge, and insure each other 
against the calamities that might flow to their families in the 
event of their being left without sufficient property to protect 
them from the evils of poverty ? I humbly conceive that we are 
called upon, by the most sacred considerations, to adopt such an 
^expedient, seeing that it is attended by no practical evils of any 
• kind, but, on the contrary, produces an unmixed good. 

Thomson. — I admit the force of your arguments there ; but it 
just occurs to me that an objection still lies with regard to the 
mercantile view of the subject. Say that I am a young hale 
man, carrying on a good business which fully employs my capital. 
I am likely to live for twenty years at least, and in that time 
have every reason to expect I shall provide for my family very 
amply. If I take money out of my business to insure upon my 
life, I so far diminish my means of carrying on business ; and 
my chance of ending with brilliant success is lessened. This I 
feel to be a hardship, and it may even be the worse in the long- 
run for my family. You will see, then, that I have a great temp- 
tation, circumstanced as I am, to abstain from laying out money 
in this way, and rather to keep employing it in business, which 
makes me in the meantime such good returns. 

Jones. — You have stated an objection which, I believe, is ex- 
tremely apt to arise in the minds of men of business, but which 
I equalty believe to be ill-founded. The question is simply this 
— are you to trust the comfort of your family to a chance, albeit 
a promising one, or are you not rather to make quite sure of it 
so far 1 Why, you speak of life-assurance being a kind of gamble. 
In many circumstances, the heeping out of it is a greater gamble. 
The plan which you propose instead, is like risking everything 
you have in the world upon a single throw of the dice, for the 
sake of a possible great gain, in which you may be disappointed. 
Resorting to life-assurance, on the other hand, is like simple 
trade, where little is risked, and a moderate but certain profit 


secured. It seems to me the only rational^ and, considering the 
interests concerned, conscientious course, while you are trusting 
most of your means to the risks of trade, to set apart a portion, 
on which you may rely at all hazards, for the benefit of your 
family, should you be unexpectedly taken from them. The stock 
in trade of even prosperous men often turns out of little value 
when they are removed from the head of their business. This 
is what all are exposed to while we continue mortal : not even the 
healthiest man can say for certain he is ever to be in his shop or 
counting-house again. Now, is it not a gratifying reflection to 
a person in such circumstances, that, though the stroke come 
to-morrow, and make the value of his stock and trade ever so 
doubtful, there is at least one clear certain sum to accrue to those 
about whose welfare he is most anxious — something v/hich they 
cannot be deprived of, so that he only die in solvent circum- 
stances. To me, at least, with the element of caution pretty 
strong in my constitution — though not stronger, I daresay, than 
is necessary in this trying world — it seems so indispensable thus 
to have a something certain for my wife and children to look to, 
that I feel as if I could not have a minute's comfort at any time, 
if I were trusting their future comfort wholly to the chance of 
how my business might turn out after m^y death. ** 

Thomson. — May I ask if you have known many instances of * 
life policies proving a stay, where other means that had been 
chiefly trusted to failed ? 

Jones. — I could relate several cases in point, and I therefore 
believe they must be frequent. Speaking generally, my expe- 
rience says that, of all the possessions of mercantile men, there 
is none more stable, none more to be depended on, than sums 
secured upon life. 

Thomson. — It will of course sometimes happen that individuals 
benefit in a remarkable degree by life-assurance, seeing that 
their death may take place at any hour after having effected 
their policies. 

Jones. — It does ; and I could tell you several remarkable anec- 
dotes of that kind. An instance of death during the week follow- 
ing the payment of the first premium once occurred in Edinburg'h. 
In the records of one particular office, I have found a consider- 
able number of cases in which only one premium was paid. I 
find, for instance, £500 realised after the policy had run 262 
days ; £800 after 330 days ; £600 after 206 days ; £500 after 
only 74 days ; £1000 after four months ; and so forth. A few 
years ago, there occurred one particular case of a very striking 
nature. An industrious man, engaged in flax-spinning, and who 
had sunk most of what he possessed in a concern of that nature, 
insured £500 in the month of February, for which the usual 
comparatively small sum was paid by way of premium ; in the 
ensuing April, not satisfied with the first sum, he insured £500 
more. Next months after the second policy had run only twenty" 



two days^ lie died in consequence of a severe injury from liis own 
machinery. Thus his family obtained the welcome sum of £1000 
to help them on in the world — a sum which they could not have 
had, if their parent's death had taken place three months sooner ! 
Such incidents serve to place the value of life-assurance in a very 
striking" light. We see, indeed, in this institution, one of the 
grand differences between a barbarous age and one of hig'h civi- 
lisation. Long" ago, the condition of the widow and the father- 
less, in all departments of society, was generally very deplorable, 
for they w^ere in most instances dependent on mere charity. 
Now, by a present expenditure of no great magnitude on the 
part of the father of a family, he may secure them against that 
wretched state of dependence in the event of his death, happen 
when it may. Men who are indisposed to make this little sacri- 
fice, talk of leaving their little ones to a kind Providence, in the 
certainty that they will not want. This is, in reality, to shift their 
own burden upon the shoulders of other people. He, on the other 
hand, who sacrifices some of his present comfort to secure the 
independency of his little ones, is manifesting, it appears to me, 
an equally implicit, and far more rational trust in Providence, in 
as far as the arrangements of life-assurance depend thereon, while 
he is acting a more heroic and spirited part merely as a man. 

Thomson. — What you say is very convincing, and I no longer 
see any occasion to hesitate before effecting a policy for the 
benefit of Susan and the young ones. There is only one other 
point I wish to have explained. I see that most insurance offices 
offer to grant annuities to applicants. Is that on the same prin- 
ciple as insurance for sums to be paid at decease 1 

Jones. — The granting of annuities is a distinct branch of in- 
surance office business, and is conducted on the same principles 
as to probability of length of days as the branch we have been 
talking of. Insurance for annuities is chiefly adapted to persons 
who can sink a certain sum. at once in exchange for a certain 
sum annually — this last being much more than they could realise 
by any process of lending the principal. The amount of the 
annual sum or annuity depends of course on the age of the in- 
surer. An old person wdll get a much larger return than a 
young one. Men retiring from business with a moderate sum, 
and who have no immediate relatives depending on them, find 
this species of insurance exceedingly suitable. But the plan 
of annuities is very various, and may be applied to many kinds 
of cases. A man may buy an annuity for himself, or for him- 
self and wife jointly; or he may sink money for an annuity to 
his widow ; or he may begin paying a sum annually, to cease 
in a certain number of years, and then his annuity is to com- 
mence — such being called deferred annuities ; or he may arrange 
that, in the event of his death, his young children shall have an 
annuity till they are of age ; and so on. 

Thomson, — Now that you put me in mind of it, I have heard 



it said jocularly, that people who insure for annuities generally 
live longer tlian those who don^t. Surely that must be nonsense. 

Jones. — I am not sure that such an idea is altogether visionary. 
People whose lives are insured for annuities, may be supposed to 
feel considerably at their ease. They are not troubled with those 
cankering cares w^hich distract men in busy life. They are left 
to enjoy their old age undisturbed. Seeking the ^ chimney-nook 
of ease/ they tranquilly spend their declining years ; and, finally, 
with life drawn out to its utmost span, they sink quietly to their 

Thomson, — Now that I know something of insurance, and am 
determined on efrecting- a policy, my only concern is to know in 
what kind of office I ought to transact the business. Can you 
give me any direction on this point ? 

Jones, — It might be invidious to speak of particular offices as 
preferable to others. But I can give you some general direc- 
tions, which may be of service to you. You must understand 
that life-assurance, like every other kind of business, is liable to 
have more or less sordid views connected with it ; and instances 
are sometimes known of business being conducted on an unsound 
footing, either through erroneous calculations, or with a view to 
the immediate beneht of certain adventurers concerned. Gene- 
rally, however, the British offices, whether proprietary or mutual, 
are conducted in a way that promises perfect security to the 
assured. You have heard me describe the opposite advantages 
arrogated for the proprietary and mutual systems by their vari- 
ous patrons. I am not disposed to go deep into that question ; 
but I may state, as my own mature opinion, that mutual assur- 
ance gives all desirable security, while it must make, in general, 
greater returns to the assured. There is something in the object 
of life-assurance so sacred in my estimation, that I dislike seeing 
common commercial interests mixing themselves up with it. 
Were such aid necessary, it would of course be right to have 
recourse to it; but experience, I think, shows that it is not 
wanted. Let men unite as brethren of one kind in this holy 
duty of insuring each other against one of the greatest of cala- 
mities, that of leaving a family in indigence ; and let whatever 
surpluses may accrue from a successful management of the busi- 
ness be divided among those alone whose benelit was primarily 
contemplated. There is, I believe, a growing conviction in 
favour of the mutual system, and hence we see offices of that 
kind multiplying faster than the others, while companies are every 
day mixing up more and more of the surplus-dividing* system 
with their own, granting policies at certain rates, with what they 
call ' participation of profits.' Indeed, so strong is this move- 
ment, that pure companies, especially those with high rates, 
could not now maintain their ground any longer, if they did 
not resort to an expedient which I am sorry to characterise as 
immoral. They cive commission to any one, whether a man of 



business or a private person, who brings them customers ; thus 
inducing' individuals in trust to recommend their clients to par- 
ticular offices, where, perhaps, they will pay more and receive 
less than elsewhere. Ig-norant as most persons are of life-assur- 
ance, and unable to discriminate for themselves between the 
claims of contending* systems, they are naturally disposed to 
listen to the counsels of a friend or leg-al ag-ent on the subject; 
but behold, where they expect true intelligence and sound 
advice, they confer with a party who is secretly under the 
temptation of a hribe — for such it is — to give them the reverse ; 
and it often happens, accordingly, that they are taken unsus- 
pectingly to an office which gives their children, some years 
after, hardly three-fourths or two-thirds of the sum which they 
would realise in other quarters for the same outlay. Seeing 
such results, I cannot but condemn the system as one disgrace- 
ful to all parties resorting to or profiting by it. And one strong 
reason with me for preferring the mutual offices is, that, with 
hardly an exception, they reject this mode of obtaining business. 

Thomson. — I really feel surprised that such a practice should 
exist in an age like the present. Why, it reduces educated men 
to a level with cooks and butlers taking fees from tradesmen for 
their masters' custom. I shall of course avoid connecting myself 
with any office which acts in a way so directly contrary to good 
morals. But, to pass from this subject, I should like to know 
if life-assurance is taken advantage of by any large portion of 
the community. To speak the truth, althoug'h the advertise- 
ments of the various offices are seen everywhere, I hear of few 
persons who have taken out policies of life-assurance. And, for 
my own part, I never till now had any clear idea of what life- 
assurance meant, or what it could do. 

Jones. — I thoroughly believe you. The subject is extremely 
little understood by the public at large, and as yet, accordingly, 
its advantages exist in vain for the great mass. So lately as the 
year 1839, there were only 80,000 policies of life-assurance in the 
United Kingdom, many of which must have been transactions 
entered into, not for the benefit of families, but in connexion 
with money-raising and security. We might therefore presume 
that hardly one head of a family in a hundred had any money 
assured upon his life. This gives a distressing view of the im- 
providence of men with respect to their families ; but I am happy 
to think that the hlessings of life-assurance, as I may well call 
them, are rapidly extending. One fact clearly shows this; 
namely, that into Scottish offices alone, and they are but a 
handful compared with the rest, no less than a million sterling is 
poured every year. Such a large subtraction from the current 
enjoyments of the population, for the supply of needs yet in the 
remote future, speaks strongly, not merely for the increasing 
wealth, but the improving^ civilisation of our country. It is to 
be greatly wished that the benefit should spread further down in 



society. As yet, it is almost confined to tlie upper and middle 
ranks ; but there is no reason wliy a respectable artisan or small 
tradesman should not have his family assured ag'ainst the cala- 
mity of his early death as well as his richer neighbours. 

Thomson, — Certainly not. But do the ordinary insurance offices 
accommodate working* men ? 

Jones. — They do. I believe most, if not all of them, grant 
policies for £50. However, there is a class of insurance asso- 
ciations more peculiarly adapted to the wants of artisans and 
others with slender means, to which they can very easily resort. 

Thomson. — I suppose you allude to what are called benefit 
clubs, or friendly societies. From what I have heard of most of 
these concerns, I should not willingly recommend any man to 
trust his money in their hands. 

Jones. — That is too sweeping a condemnation. There are, no 
doubt, many got up on erroneous principles, and perhaps some 
are conducted by designing individuals for their own ends ; but 
there are likewise several established and managed on principles 
as sound as those of respectable insurance companies. 

Thomson. — Name one of these if you please, and let me know 
something of its details. I take an interest in everything bearing 
on the welfare of the working-classes. 

Jones. — The one I happen to be best acquainted with is the 
Edinburgh School of Arts^ Friendly Society, established about six- 
teen years ago. This society, although originating with certain 
of the members of and friends to the School of Arts (a species of 
mechanics' institution), and taking* its name, is not otherwise 
connected with that institution, but is open to all persons, male 
and female, residing in Edinburgh. It has three separate funds 
or schemes — namely, a Sickness Fund, Deferred Annuity Fwidy 
and a Life-Assurance Fund. One share of the sickness fund 
entitles the member during sickness to 10s. a-week for 52 weeks, 
7s. 6d. a-week for other 52 weeks, and 5s. a-week for all future 
period of sickness until the age of 60 or 65, according to the age 
of superannuation fixed at entry; thereafter, his contributions 
cease, and he enters to the enjoyment of the Deferred Annuity 
Fund, one share of which entitles the member to an annuity of 
L.8 a-year, commencing at the age of 60 or 65, as fixed at his 
entry. One share of the Life-Assurance Fund is a sum of L.IO 
payable at the member's death. In this case, as in others, the 
contributions cease at the age of 60 or 65. The rates are calculated 
from the Highland Society's sickness table, increased by 50 per 
cent., which in this case may be considered as sufficient (seeing 
that only sound healthy men are admitted), and a mortality table 
compounded of the Northampton, Carlisle, and Swedish, assuming 
the rate of interest at 4 per cent., accumulated yearly ; and the 
only charges for management are 2s. 6d. entry money to each 
fund, and Is, a-year payable by each member of each fund. The 
life-assurance fund of this society stands apart from the other 



two, and may be entered independently ; if, however, you wish 
to know the scale of contributions, you must study the society's 
tables. I shall only here mention a sing-le case by way of example. 
In order, then, that a member's heirs shall be entitled to draw 
L.IO at his death, he pays in one sum, w^hen 25 years of age, 
L.3, 4s. 7^d, or, instead of one sum, 3s. 9^d. annually, or Is. O^d. 
the first month, and 3d. every other month — contributions to cease 
at 65. Payments beg-inning at other ages are in proportion. I need 
say no more of this class of societies, except that I wish they 
were extended to every large town in the empire. From what I 
have stated, you will observe that operatives as well as others 
may now insure their lives on safe principles. And surely it 
would be delightful to hear of such persons regularly spending 
a pound or two per annum, or a few pence weekly, in securing- 
to their widows and children what would place them above 
everything like immediate want. 

Thomson. — Would you prefer seeing men effecting an insurance 
to laying aside money in a bank 1 

Jones, — I do not think the two things should be brought into 
comparison, because each is right in its way. I would, however^ 
repeat, that the first duty of every man is to provide to the best of 
his ability for his wife and family in the event of his death, and 
the most convenient way of doing so is to elfect an insurance on 
his life. At the same time, I do not imagine that this is incom- 
patible with other economical practices. Let every man save as 
much as he can by all means — the operative resorting to his 
savings' bank, and those with larger means at disposal seeking* 
all proper investments for the surplus gains of their labour. In 
point of fact, I believe it will be found that the man who insures 
his life is the first to save otherwise. The very easy way in which 
insurance can be effected enables a person to economise. Instead 
of struggling to lay past a large sum, small instalments at dis- 
tant intervals suffice, thus enabling him to put aside whatever 
other sums he may chance to have at his disposal. 

Thomson. — Well, I believe that life-insurance does not neces- 
sarily prevent other means of economising, even as regards work- 
ing-men in good employment ; and I shall recommend some 
artisans whom I happen to know to join either an insurance- 
office, or a friendly society such as you mention. 

Jones. — Do so ; but do not confine your advices to them. Try 
to influence every person to insure, whatever be his station. In- 
deed, till this practice becomes the rule amongst men of all 
classes, instead of being-, as now, the rare exception, I can- 
not believe that we have attained such a point in civilisa- 
tion as we have any title to boast of. For what is the pre- 
dicament of that man who, for the gratification of his affections, 
surrounds himself with a wife and children, and peaceably 
lives in the enjoyment of these precious blessings, w^ith the 
knowledge that, ere three moments at any time shall have 



passed, the cessation of his existence may throw wife and chil- 
dren tog'ether into a state of destitution ? I hold it to be the 
duty of every man to provide, while he yet lives, for his own : I 
would say that it is not more his duty to provide for their 
daily bread during his life, than it is to provide, as far as he can, 
against their being left penniless in the event of his death. In- 
deed, between these two duties there is no essential distinction, 
for life-assurance makes the one as much a matter of current 
expenditure as the other. One part of his income can now be 
devoted by a head of a family to the necessities of the present ; 
another may be stored up, by means of life-assurance, to provide 
against the future. And thus he may be said to do the whole of 
his duty towards his family, instead of, as is generally the case, 
only doing the half of it. Men are only comparatively indifferent 
■on this subject, because there has as yet been but a brief experi- 
ence of a system for redeeming widows and orphans from poverty. 
When life-assurance is as universally understood and practised 
as it ought to be, he who has not made such a provision, or 
something equivalent, for the possibility of his death, will, I 
verily trust, be looked on as a not less detestable wretch than he 
who will not work for his children's bread ; and his memory 
after death will be held in not less contempt. 

[Jones and Thomson hid each other good-hy, and separate, Thomson 
resolving not to go home till he has called at an office to fill up a 
proposal for an assurance upon his life.'l 


The assurance principle has within the last few years been appHed, with 
the prospect of success, to the guaranteeing of fidelity in persons holding 
situations of trust. In this case the calculation is, that out of a large 
range of instances where individuals of good moral character are in- 
trusted with sums belonging to their employers, a nearly regular amount 
of defalcation will take place annually, or wdthin some other larger space 
of time. This may give an unpleasant view of human nature, but it is 
found to be a true one, and the question which arises with men of busi- 
ness is, by what means may the defalcation be best guarded against. The 
choice is between a guarantee from one or two persons, and from a trading 
company. By the former plan, the risk is concentrated upon one or two, 
who may be deeply injured in consequence : by the other plan, the risk is 
not merely diffused, it is extinguished, for the premiums paid by the insur- 
ing parties stand for the losses, besides affording a profit upon the business. 
Nor have we only thus a protection for private parties against the dangers 
of security ; but individuals, who have the offer of situations on the condi- 
tion of giving a sufficient guarantee, may now be able to take, where 
formerly they would have had to decline them, seeing that they might have 
failed to induce any friend to venture so far in their behalf. Practically, 
it has also been found that, so far from parties being more ready to give 
way to temptation when they know that the loss will fall upon a company, 
they are less so, seeing that the company exercises a more rigid supervi- 
sion, and presents a sterner front to delinquents, than is the case with 
private securities in general. Guarantee companies are now established 
in London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and other large cities ; and as they 
serve a useful purpose, and rather support than deteriorate individual 
morality, we cordially trust that they will go on and prosper. — Ed. 


p HE continent of Nortli America is about three thou- 
sand miles across, from tlie Atlantic on the east to the 
\ Pacific on the west ; and, after an interval of three 
centuries since the discovery and settlement of the 
country, the civilised races, who are chiefly of English 
origin, have not generally penetrated with their possessions 
^^ above a third of the entire breadth. The progress of en- 
1j croachment in the western wilderness, however, is now ex- 
ceedingly rapid. Since the deliverance of the New England and 
other states from British control, the Anglo-Americans have 
evinced a singularly energetic spirit of migration towards what 
was, seventy years ago, an almost unknown land. Crossing the 
Alleghany range of mountains, from the Atlantic or old settled 
states, they have taken possession of the valley of the Mississippi, 
a tract as large as all Europe ; and approaching the head waters 
of the Missouri and other tributaries of the Mississippi, appear 
prepared to cross the Rocky Mountains — " the Great Backbone 
of America,^' as they have not unaptly been called — and take pos- 
session of the Oregon country, lying on the shores of the Pacific. 
This extension of the boundaries of civilisation over a country 
hitherto^ abandoned to roaming tribes of Indians, and herds of 
wild animals, is at present one of the most remarkable facts in 
social history. Since the beginning of the present century, the 
population of the United States has^ increased from four millions 
to twenty millions ; and following the same rate of increase, in 
less than a century hence the population will have increased to 
upwards of a hundred and fifty millions— ail speaking the Eiig- 
No. 45. 1 


lisli languag-e, a.nd possessing* institutions resembling" our own, 
Yetj although the extension of the Ang-lo- American settlements 
be comparatively rapid, it is not effected without numerous diffi- 
culties. Those who first penetrate into the wilderness are usu- 
ally parties of fur traders ; and by these hardy pioneers, and the 
volunteer travellers who accompany them, the way may be said 
to be in some measure paved for the more formal visits of sur- 
veyors, and the new occupants of the country. The journeys of 
these pioneering parties are attended with many dang-ers. The 
setting" out of an expedition resembles a caravan of pilg-rims 
sallying forth across the African deserts ; civilisation is for 
months, perhaps for years, left behind ; no vestige of house or 
road is seen on the apparently interminable wastes ; journeying 
is performed only on horseback during the day, while repose is 
enjoyed in tents pitched for the night; a constant outlook must 
be kept for prowling wild beasts, or the not less stealthy steps 
of the Pawnee Loup Indian : in short, all is wild nature, roman- 
tic enough perhaps to untamed minds, but as we can imagine 
altogether unendurable by persons accustomed to the quiet 
and orderly life of cities. Strange as it seems, however, there 
are highly cultivated individuals who, inspired by a love of 
science, or for the mere sake of sport, voluntarily make part of 
the fur-trading bands, and consent to remain for years from 
home, friends, and the world of refinement. 

Believing that the account of one of these romantic expedi- 
tions cannot but be acceptable to our readers, we offer in the 
present sheet the history of an excursion performed a few years 
ago by Mr Townsend, an enthusiastic ornithologist, and his 
friend Professor Nuttall, of Howard university, an equally zealous 
botanist.* Being desirous of increasing' the existing stock of 
knowledge in the departments of science to which they were 
respectively attached, these gentlemen agreed to accompany a 
body of traders, commanded by a Captain Wyeth, to the Colum- 
bia river and adjacent parts. The traders belonged to an asso- 
ciation called the Columbia River Fishing and Trading Company, 
and on this occasion they designed to lix a permanent branch- 
establishment in the west. 

On the evening of the 24th of March 1834, the two friends 
arrived in a steamboat at St Louis, on the Missouri, from Pitts- 
burg. At St Louis, which is the last great town within the 
settlements, they furnished themselves with several pairs of 
leathern pantaloons, enormous overcoats, and white wool hats 
with round crowns, fitting tightly to the head, and almost hard 
enough to resist a musket ball. Leaving their baggage to come 
on with the steamer, about three hundred miles farther up the 

* We draw tlie materials for our aeeoimt from " An Excursion to the 
Rocky Mountains, by J. K. Townsend ;" a work published at Philadelphia 
in 1839. 


Missouri^ Mr Toy/nsend and his friend set off to amuse them- 
selves by walking* and hunting' leisurely through that distance, 
which is composed chiefly of Avide flat prairies^ with few and 
remotely situated habitations of the frontier settlers. 

One of the first indications of their approach to a wild country 
was the spectacle of a band of Indians of the Saque tribe, who 
were removing* to new settlements. The men were fantastically 
painted, and the chief was distinguished by a profuse display of 
trinkets, and a huge necklace made of the claws of the grizzly 
bear. The decorations of one of the women amused the two 
travellers. She was an old squaw, to whom was presented a 
broken umbrella. The only use she made of this prize was to 
wrench the plated ends from the whalebones, string* them on a 
piece of wire, take her knife from her belt, with which she deli- 
berately cut a slit of an inch in length along the upper rim of 
her ear, and insert them in it. The sight was as shocking to the 
feelings as it was grotesque ; for the cheeks of the vain being 
were covered with blood as she stood with fancied dignity in the 
midst of twenty others, who evidently envied her the possession 
of the worthless baubles. 

While pushing forward on the borders of the wilderness, the 
travellers one day arrived at the house of a kind of gentleman- 
settler, who, with his three daughters, vied in showing kind- 
ness to their visitors. " The girls," says Mr Townsend, " were 
very superior to most that I had seen in Missouri, although 
somewhat touched with the awkward bashfulness and prudery 
which g-enerally characterise the prairie maidens. They had 
lost their mother when young, and having no companions out 
of the domestic circle, and consequently no opportunity of 
aping the manners of the world, were perfect children of na- 
ture. Their father^ however, had given them a good plain 
education, and they had made some proficiency in needlework, 
as was evinced by numerous neatly-worked samplers hanging in 
wooden frames round the room." Some little curiosity and 
astonishment was excited in the minds of the unsophisticated 
girls when they were informed that their two guests v/ere under- 
taking a long and difficult journey across the prairies — one of 
them for the purpose of shooting and stuffing birds, the other for 
the purpose of obtaining plants to preserve between leaves of 
paper; but at last they began to perceive that probably there 
was some hidden utility in these seemingly idle pursuits ; and 

the last words of the eldest Miss P to our ornithologist at 

parting were, " Do come again, and come in May or June, for 
then there are plenty of prairie-hens, and you can shoot as many 
as you want, and you must stay a long while with us, and we'll 
have nice times. Good-by ; I'm so sorry you're going." Miss 

P -, in promising an abundance of prairie-hens, evidently did 

not perceive in what respect an ornithologist diflered from ' a 
sportsman j but her invitation was kindly meant 5 and Mr 



Townsend promised, that if ever he visited Missouri again, he 
would g-o a g'ood many miles out of his way to see her and her 
sisters. The next resting-place which our traveller describes, was 

very different from Mr P 's comfortable and cheerful house. 

It was a liotel^ for which a pigsty would have been a more appro- 
priate name. Everything and everybody were dirty, disobliging, 
and disagreeable ; and after staying one night, the travellers 
refusing* the landlord's invitation to liquorise with him, departed 
without waiting for breakfast. 

In the case of our travellers, however, one of the last impres- 
sions left u]3on them before fairly entering the wilderness was of 
a more agreeable and suitable description. " In about an hour 
and a half,*' says Mr Townsend, " we arrived at Fulton, a pretty 
little tov/n, and saw the villagers in their holiday clothes parad- 
ing along to church. The bell at that moment sounded, and the 
peal gave rise to many reflections. It might be long ere I should 
hear the sound of the ^ church-going bell' again. I was on my 
way to a far, far country, and I did not know that I should ever 
be permitted to revisit my own. I felt that I was leaving' the 
scenes of my childhood — the spot which had witnessed all the 
happiness I ever knew, the home where all my affections were 
centered. I was entering a land of strangers, and would be 
compelled hereafter to mingle with those who might look upon 
me with indifference, or treat me with neglect.'^ 

The travellers, tired of their long journey on foot, waited at a 
small village on the Missouri till their companions and baggage 
should come up. The steamer arrived on the 9th of April, and 
the two pedestrians having* gone on board, it was soon puffing 
up the river at the rate of seven miles an hour. In four days 
they reached the small town of Independence, the outermost 
Anglo-American post, and disembarking, they beg*an to prepare 
for their long and venturesome journey. Mr Townsend here 
introduces a description of the company, about fifty in all. 

There were amongst the men, to compose the caravan, a great 
variety of dispositions. Some, who had not been accustomed to 
the kind of life they were to lead, looked forward to it with 
eager delight, and talked of stirring incidents and hairbreadth 
escapes. Others, who were more experienced, seemed to be as 
ea«y and unconcerned about it as a citizen would be in contem- 
plating a drive of a few miles into the country. Some were 
evidently reared in the shade, and not accustomed to hardships ; 
many were almost as rough as the grizzly bear, and not a little 
proud of their feats, of which they were fond of boasting ; but 
the majority were strong able-bodied men. During the day, the 
captain kept all his men emjDloj^ed in arranging* and packing a vast 
variety of goods for carriage. In addition to the necessary clothing 
for the company, arms, ammunition, &c. there were thousands of 
trinkets of various kinds, beads, paint, bells, rings, and such like 
trumpery, intended as presents for the Indians, as well as objects 



of trade with them. The bales were usually made to weigh 
about eighty pounds, of which a horse was to carry two. Cap- 
tain Wyeth insured the good-will and obedience of the men by 
his affable but firm manner, and showed himself every way suit- 
able for his very important mission. In the company there 
were also five missionaries, the principal of whom, Mr Jason 
Lee, was " a tall and powerful man, w^ho looked as though he 
were well calculated to buffet difficulties in a wild country." 
Before setting out, they were joined also by Mr Milton Sublette, 
a trader and trapper of several years' standing, who intended to 
travel a part of the way with them. Mr Sublette brought with 
him about twenty trained hunters, "true as the steel of their 
tried blades," who had more than once gone over the very track 
which the caravan intended to pursue — a reinforcement which 
was very welcome to Captain Wyeth and his party. 


On the 28th of April, at ten o'clock in the morning', all things 
being prepared, the caravan, consisting of seventy men and two 
hundred and fifty horses, began its march towards the v/est. 
All were in high spirits, and full of hope of adventure ; up- 
roarious bursts of merriment, and gay and lively songs, con- 
stantly echoed along the line of the cavalcade. The road lay 
over a vast rolling prairie, with occasional small spots of timber 
at the distance of several miles apart, and this was expected to 
be the complexion of the track for some weeks. For the first 
day and night the journey was agreeable, but on the second day 
a heavy rain fell, which made the ground wxt and muddy, soaked 
the blanket bedding, and rendered camping at night anything 
but pleasant. The description given of a nightly camp is in- 
teresting : — "The party is divided into messes of eight men, and 
each mess is allowed a separate tent. The captain of a mess 
(who is generally an ' old hand') receives each morning rations 
of pork, flour, &c. for his people, and they choose one of their 
body as cook for the whole. Our camp now consists of nine 
messes, of which Captain Wyeth's forms one, although it con- 
tains only four persons besides the cook. When we arrive in the 
evening at a suitable spot for encampment. Captain Wyeth ridea 
round a space which he considers large enough to accommodate 
it, and directs where each mess shall pitch its tent. The men 
immediately unload their horses, and place their bales of goods 
in the direction indicated, and in such manner as, in case of 
need, to form a sort of fortification and defence. When all the 
messes are arranged in this way, the camp forms a hollow square, 
in the centre of which the horses are placed and staked hvmly 
to the ground. The guard consists of from six to eight men, 
is relieved three times each night, and so arranged that each 
gang may serve alternate nights. The captain of a guard (who 
is generally also the captain of a mess) collects his people at the 



appointed liour, and posts tliem around outside tlie camp in sucli 
situations that they may command a view of the environs, and 
he ready to give the alarm in case of danger. The captain cries 
the hour regularly hy a watch, and alVs wellj every fifteen 
minutes, and each man of the guard is required to repeat this 
call in rotation, which if any one should fail to do, it is fair to 
conclude that he is asleep, and he is then immediately visited 
and stirred up. In case of defection of this kind, our laws ad- 
judge to the delinquent the hard sentence of walking three days. 
As yet, none of our poor fellows have incurred this penalty, and 
the probability is, that it would not at this time be enforced, as 
we are yet in a country where little molestation is to be appre- 
hended ; but in the course of another week's travel, when thiev- 
ing and ill-designing Indians will be out, lying on our trail, it 
will be necessary that the strictest watch be kept ; and for the 
preservation of our persons and property, that our laws shall be 
rigidly enforced." 

For about a fortnight the caravan proceeded without any very 
remarkable incident occurring. The cook of the mess to which 
Mr Townsend belonged decamped one night, having no doubt 
become tired of the expedition, and determined to go back to the 
settlements. The man himself was little missed; but he had 
taken a rifle, powder-horn, and shot-pouch along with him, 
and these articles were precious. In a few days after, three other 
men deserted, likewise carrying rifles with them. In the course 
of the fortnight the caravan passed through several villages of 
the Kaw Indians, with whom they traded a little, giving bacon 
and tobacco in exchange for hides. These Indians do not appear, 
on the whole, to have been very favourable specimens of the 
American aborigines. The men had many of them fine counte- 
nances, but the women were very homely. The following is a 
description of one of their chiefs : — " In the evening the principal 
Kanzas chief paid us a visit in our tent. He is a young man about 
twenty-five years of age, straight as a poplar, and with a noble 
countenance and bearing', but he appeared to me to be marvel- 
lously deficient in most of the requisites which go to make the 
character of a real Indian chief, at least of such Indian chiefs as 
we read of in our popular books. I begin to suspect, in truth, 
that these lofty and dignified attributes are more apt to exist in 
the fertile brain of the novelist than in reality. Be this as it may, 
our chief is a very lively, laughing, and rather playful personage ; 
perhaps he may put on his dignity, like a glove, when it suits 
his convenience." 

On the 8th of May the party had a misfortune in the loss of 
Mr Milton Sublette, who, owing to a fungus in one of his legs, 
w^as obliged to return to the settlements. On the afternoon 
of next day, the party crossed a broad Indian trail, bearing 
northerly, supposed to be about -Qnq days old, and to have been 
made by a war-party of Pawnees. Hoping to escape these for- 


midable enemies of the white man, the party pushed on, but not 
without occasional mishaps ; at one time the horses ran away, and 
had to be chased for a whole nighfc, and even when the labour of 
the chase was over, three were irrecoverably lost ; at another time 
half of the party were drenched crossing* a wide creek full of 
black mud, which the men had to flounder through on horse- 
back. The weather, too, was becoming intolerably warm. They 
had frequently been favoured with fresh breezes, which made it 
very ag-reeable ; but the moment these failed, they were almost 
suffocated with intense heat. Their rate of travelling" was about 
twenty miles per day, which in this warm weather, and with 
heavily burdened horses, was as much as could be accomplished 
with comfort to the travellers and their animals. 

The general aspect, however, of the country through which 
they were travelling, was exceedingly beautiful. "The little 
streams are fringed with a thick growth of pretty trees and 
bushes, and the buds are now swelling, and the leaves expanding*, 
to Svelcome back the spring.' The birds, too, sing joyously 
amongst them — grosbeaks, thrushes, and buntings — a merry and 
.musical band. I am particularly fond of sallying out early in 
the morning, and strolling around the camp. The light breeze 
just bends the tall tops of the grass on the boundless prairie, the 
birds are commencing their matin carollings, and all nature looks 
fresh and beautiful. The horses of the camp are lying comfort- 
Aably on their sides, and seem, hj the glances which they give 
me in passing', to know that their hour of toil is approaching, 
and the patient kine are ruminating in happy unconsciousness.'^ 

One morning the scouts came in with the intelligence that the}^ 
had found a large trail of white men bearing north-west. Cap- 
tain Wyeth and his party concluded that this was another cara- 
van belonging to a rival trading company, and that it had passed 
them noiselessly in the course of the night, in order to be before- 
hand with them in traffic with the Indian tribes through which 
they were passing. The party grumbled a little at the unfriendly 
conduct of the rival caravan in stealing a march upon them ; but 
consoled themselves by making the reflection, that competition is 
the soul of commerce, and that, in the same circumstances, they 
would in all probability have acted in the same way; While dis- 
cussing the affair at breakfast, three Indians, of a tribe called the 
Ottos, made their appearance. These visitors were suspected of 
being concerned in the loss of the three horses mentioned above : 
but as the crime could not be brought home to them by any kind 
of evidence, they were received in a friendly manner ; and, as 
usual, the pipe of peace was smoked with them. 

" While these people," says Mr Townsend, " were smoking the 
pipe of peace with us after breakfast, I observed that Kichard- 
son, our chief hunter (an experienced man in this country, of 
a tall and iron frame, and almost child-like simplicity of "^cha- 
racter, in fact, an exact counterpart of Hawk-eye in his younger 



days), stood aloof, and refused to sit in tlie circle, in whicli it 
was always the custom of the old hands to join. 

Feeling" some curiosity to ascertain the cause of this unusual 
diffidence, I occasionally allowed my eyes to wander to the spot 
where our sturdy hunter stood looking- moodily upon us, as the 
calamet passed from hand to hand around the circle, and I 
thought I perceived him now and then cast a furtive glance at 
one of the Indians who sat opposite to me, and sometimes his 
countenance would assume an expression almost demoniacal, as 
though the most fierce and deadly passions were raging" in his 
bosom, I felt certain that hereby hung" a tale, and I watched 
for a corresponding expression, or at least a look of consciousness, 
in the face of my opposite neighbour ; but expression there was 
none. His large features were settled in a tranquillity which 
nothing could disturb, and as he puffed the smoke in huge volumes 
from his mouth, and the fragrant vapour wreathed and curled 
around his head, he seemed the embodied spirit of meekness and 

The camp moved soon after, and I lost no time in overhauling* 
Richardson, and asking an explanation of his singular conduct. 
' Why,' said he, ' that Injen that sat opposite to you is my bitterest 
enemy. I was once going down alone from the rendezvous with 
letters for St Louis, and when I arrived on the lower part of the 
Platte river — just a short distance beyond us here — I fell in 
with about a dozen Ottos. They were known to be a friendly 
tribe, and I therefore felt no fear of them. I dismounted from my 
horse, and sat with them upon the ground. It was in the depth 
of winter ; the ground was covered with snow, and the river was 
frozen solid. While I was thinking of nothing but my dinner, 
which I was then about ]3reparing, four or five of the cowards 
jumped on me, mastered ray rifle, and held my arms fast, while 
they took from me my knife and tomahawk, my flint and steel, 
and all my ammunition. They then loosed me, and told me to 
be off. I begged them, for the love of God, to give me my rifle 
and a few loads of ammunition, or I should starve before I could 
reach the settlements. No ; I should have nothing; and if I did 
not Starr, off immediately, they would throw me under the ice of 
the river. And,' continued the excited hunter, while he ground 
his teeth with bitter and uncontrollable rage, ' that man that sat 
opposite to you was the chief of them. He recognised me, and 
knew very well the reason why I would not smoke with him. 
I tell you, sir, if ever I meet that man in any other situation 
than that in which I saw him this morning, I'll shoot him with 
as little hesitation as I would shoot a deer. Several years have 
passed since the perpetration of this outrage, but it is still as fresh 
in my memory as ever ; and I again declare, that if ever an op- 
portunity offers, I will kill that man.' ' But, Richardson, did 
they take your horse also V ^ To be sure they did, and my blan- 
kets^ and everything I had, except my clothes.' ' But how did 


you subsist until you reached the settlements ? You had a long* 
journey before you/ ' Why, set totrappin' prairie squirrels with 
little nooses made out of the hairs of my head.' I should remark 
that his hair was so long- that it fell in heavy masses on his 
shoulders. ' But squirrels in winter, Eichardson ! I never heard 
of squirrels in winter.' ^ VvVil, but there wms plenty of them, 
thoug-h; little white ones, that lived among* the snow."' Such 
is a trait of human nature in these far Avestern regions. 

On the 18th of May the party reached the Platte river, one 
of the streams wdiich pour their waters into the Missouri. 
Wolves and antelopes were abundant in the neig'hbourhood of 
the river, and herons and long-billed curlews were stalking about 
in the shallows, searching* for food. The prairie is here as level 
as a race-course, not the slightest undulation appearing* throug'h- 
out the whole extent of visioii in a northerly and westerly direc- 
tion ; but to the eastward of the river, and about eight miles 
from it, was seen a range of high bluffs, or sand-banks, stretching 
away to the south-east till lost in the far distance. The travellers 
were not less struck Avith the solemn grandeur of the apparently 
boundless prairie, than with the sight of its surface, which was 
in many places encrusted with an impure salt, seemingljr a com- 
bination of the sulphate and muriate of soda : there were also 
seen a number of little pools, of only a few inches in depth, scat- 
tered over the plain, the water of which w^as so bitter and pun- 
gent, that it seemed to penetrate into the tongue, and almost to 
take the skin from the mouth. Next morning the party were 
alarmed with the appearance of two men on horseback, hovering 
on their path at a great distance. On looking at them with a 
telescope, they were discovered to be Indians, and on their ap- 
proach it was found they belonged to a large band of the Grand 
Paw^nee tribe, wdio were on a war-excursion, and encamped at 
about thirty miles' distance. Having got rid of these suspicious 
visitors, the party moved rapidly forward in an altered direction, 
and did not slacken their pace till twelve o'clock at night. After 
a brief rest, they again went on, travelling steadily the whole 
day, and so got quite clear of the Grand Pawnees. 

The travellers were now proceeding across one of the large 
central prairies of North America, and were, as they reckoned, 
within three days' journey of the buiialo region; that is, the 
region haunted by herds of buffalo. The uninitiated of the party, 
who for a good many days past had been listening to the spirit- 
stirring accounts given by the old hunters of their sport in 
the buffalo region, began to grow^ impatient for the first sight 
of this animal, the tenant of the prairies. At length, on the after- 
noon of the 20th, they came in sight of a large gang of the long- 
coveted buffalo. They were grazing* on the opposite side of the 
Platte, as quietly as domestic cattle ;" but as they neared them, the 
foremost tvinded the travellers, and started back, and the whole 
herd followed in the wildest confusion, and were soon out of 
7 9 


sig-lit. Tliere must have been many thousands of them. Towards 
evening" a larg-e band of elk came on at full g-allop, and passed 
very near the party. The appearance of these animals pro- 
duced a singular effect upon the horses, all of which became 
restive, and about half of the loose ones broke away, and scoured 
over the plain in full chase after' the elk. Captain Wyeth and 
several of his men went immediately in pursuit of them, and re- 
turned late at nig-ht, bringing the g'reater number. Two had, 
however, been lost irrecoverably. By an observation, the lati- 
tude was found to be 40 deg'rees 31 minutes north, and the com- 
puted distance from the Missouri settlements about 360 miles. 

The day following, the party saw several small herds of buffalo 
on their side of the river. Two of the hunters started out after a 
huge bu:ll that had separated himself from his companions, and 
gave him chase on fleet horses. Away went the buffalo, and 
away went the men, as hard as they could dash ; now the hunters 
gained upon him, and pressed him hard ; again the enormous 
creature had the advantage, plunging with all his might, his ter- 
rihc horns often ploughing up the earth as he spurned it under 
him. Sometimes he would double, and rush so near the horses 
as almost to gore them with his horns, and in an instant would 
be off in a tangent, and throw his pursuers from the track. At 
length the poor animal came to bay, and made some unequivocal 
demonstrations of combat, raising and tossing his head furiously, 
and tearing up the ground with his feet. At this moment a shot 
was fired. The victim trembled like an aspen leaf, and fell on his 
knees, but recovering himself in an instant, started again as fast 
as before. Again the determined hunters dashed after him, but 
the poor bull was nearly exhausted : he proceeded but a short dis- 
tance, and stopped again. The hunters approached, rode slowly 
by him, and shot two balls through his body with the most per- 
fect coolness and precision. During the race — the whole of which 
occurred in full view of the party — the men seemed wild with the 
excitement which it occasioned: and when the animal fell, a 
shout rent the air which startled the antelopes by dozens from the 
bluffs, and sent the wolves howling from their lairs. 

This is the most common mode of killing the buffalo, and is 
practised very generally by the travelling hunters : many are 
also destroyed by approaching them, on foot, when, if the bushes 
are sufficiently dense, or the grass high enough to afford conceal- 
ment, the hunter, by keeping carefully to leeward of his game, 
may sometimes approach so near as almost to touch the animal. 
If on a plain without grass or bushes, it is necessary to be very 
circumspect ; to approach so slowly as not to excite alarm, and 
when observed by the animal, to imitate dexterously the clumsy 
motions of a young bear, or assume the sneaking prowling atti- 
tude of a wolf, in order to lull suspicion. The Indians resort to 
another stratagem, which is perhaps even more successful. The 
skin of a calf is properly dressed, with the head and legs left at- 



tached to it. The Indian envelopes himself in this, and with his 
short bow and a brace of arrows ambles off into the very midst 
of a herd. When he has selected such an animal as suits his 
fancy, he comes close alongside of it, and without noise passes an 
arrow through its heart. One arrow is always sufficient, and it 
is generally delivered with such force, that at least half the shaft 
appears through the opposite side. The creature totters, and is 
about to fall, when the Indian glides around, and draws the 
arrow from the wound lest it should be broken. A single Indian 
is said to kill a great number of buffaloes in this way before any 
alarm is communicated to the herd. 

Towards evening, on ascending a hill, the party were suddenly 
greeted by a sight which seemed to astonish even the oldest 
amongst them. The whole plain, as far as the eye could discern, 
was covered by one enormous mass of buffalo. The scene, at 
the very least computation, would certainly extend ten miles, and 
in the whole of this great space, including about eight miles in 
width from the bluffs to the river bank, there was apparently 
no vista in the incalculable multitude. It was truly a sight 
that would have excited even the dullest mind to enthusiasm. 
The party rode up to within a few hundred yards of the edge 
of the herd before any alarm was communicated ; then the bulls, 
which are always stationed around as sentinels, began pawing 
the ground and throwing the earth over their heads ; in a few 
moments they started in a slow clumsy canter, but as the hunters 
neared them they quickened their pace to an astonishingly rapid 
gallop, and in a few minutes were entirely beyond the reach of 
their guns, but were still so near that their enormous horns and 
long shaggy beards were very distinctly seen. Shortly after 
encamping, the hunters brought in the choice parts of Rye that 
they had killed. 

Of the animals belonging to those vast herds which the hunters 
kill, only a small portion is usually taken for food. Mr Towns- 
end and two of his associates having killed a bull buffalo, they 
proceeded to cut it up in the following approved manner :— The 
animal was first raised from his side where he had lain, and sup- 
ported upon his knees, with his hoofs turned under him ; a longi- 
tudinal incision was then made from the nape or anterior base of 
the hump, and continued backward to the loins, and a large 
portion of the skin from each side removed ; these pieces of skin 
were placed upon the ground, with the under surface uppermost, 
and the fleeces, or masses of meat taken from along the back, 
were laid upon them. These fleeces, from a large animal, will 
weigh perhaps a hundred pounds each, and comprise the whole 
of the hump on each side of the vertical processes (commonly 
called the hump ribs), which are attached to the vertebrse. The 
fleeces are considered the choice parts of the buffalo, and here, 
where the game is so abundant, nothing else is taken, if we ex- 
cept the tongue and an occasional marrow-bone. This, it must 



be confessed, appears like a useless and unwarrantable waste of 
the g-oods of Providence ; but wben are men economical, unless 
compelled to be so by necessity '? The food of the hunters con- 
sists for months of nothing but this kind of buifalo meat, roasted, 
and cold water — no bread of any kind. On this rude fare they 
enjoyed the best health, clear heads, and hig-h spirits. 

One night shortly after their Urst encounter with the buffalo, 
Mr Townsend entering his tent about eleven o'clock, after having 
served as a supernumerary watch for several hours, was stooping 
to lay his g'un in its usual place at the head of his couch, when 
he was startled by seeing* a pair of eyes, wild and bright as those 
of a tiger, gleaming from a dark corner of the lodge, and evidently 
directed upon him. " My first impression,^' he says^ " was that 
a wolf had been lurking around the camp, and had entered the 
tent in the prospect of finding meat. My gun was at my 
shoulder instinctively, my aim w^as directed between the eyes, 
and my finger pressed the trigg^er. At that moment a tall Indian 
sprang before me with a loud icali ! seized the gun, and elevated 
the muzzle above my head ; in another instant a second Indian 
was by my side, and I saw his keen knife glitter as it left the 
scabbard. I had not time for thought, and was struggling- with 
all my might with the first savage for the recovery of my w^eapon, 
when Captain Wyeth and the other inmates of the tent were 
aroused, and the whole matter w^as explained, and set at rest in a 
moment. The Indians were chiefs of the tribe of Pawnee Loups, 
who had come with their young* men to shoot buffalo : they had 
paid an evening visit to the captain, and as an act of courtesy, 
had been invited to sleep in the tent. I had not known of the'ir 
arrival, nor did I even suspect that Indians were in our neig'h- 
bourhood, so could not control the alarm which their sudden 
appearance occasioned me. These Indians," continues Mr Towns- 
end, " were the finest looking of any I had seen. Their persons 
w^ere tall, straight, and finely formed ; their noses slightly 
aquiline, and the whole countenance expressive of high and 
daring intrepidity. The face of the taller one was particularly 
admirable, and Gall or Spurzheim, at a single glance at his 
magnificent head, would have invested him with all the noblest 
qualities of the species. I know not what a physiognomist would 
have said of his eyes, but they were certainly the most wonderful 
I ever looked into ; glittering* and scintillating* constantly, like 
the mirror-glasses in a lamp frame, and rolling; and dancing' in 
their orbits as though possessed of abstract volition." 


As the party, leaving' the Pawnees and the buffalo behind, 
began to approach the mountain district, the country altered 
its appearance greatly for the worse. They were now on a 
great sandy waste, forming a kind of upper table-land o'f North 



America — a region without a sing*le green thing to vaiy and 
enliven the scene, and abounding in swarms of ferocious Httle 
black gnats, which assail the eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth of 
the unhappy traveller. It is necessary, however, to pursue a 
route in this direction, in order to Und accessible passes through 
the Rocky Mountains, which are impenetrable more to the 
north-west. Making the best of their w^ay over the inhospitable 
desert, and fortunately escaping any roving bands of unfriendly 
Indians, the cavalcade struck through a rang-e of stony moun- 
tains, called the Black Hills, and in a few days afterwards came 
in sight of the Wind River Mountains, which form the loftiest 
land m the northern continent, and are at all times covered with 
snow of dazzling whiteness. From the great height above the 
level of the sea which the party had attained, the climate w^as 
found to be cold, even although in summer; the plains were 
covered only by the scantiest herbage ; and frequently there was 
great difficulty in obtaining a supply of water for the camp. The 
painfulness of the journey, therefore, was now extreme, both for 
man and beast. 

Occasionally, however, a green spot did occur, where the jaded 
horses were allowed to halt, to roam about without their riders, 
and to tumble joyfully on the verdant sward ; and as these oases 
always abounded in birds and plants, our two naturalists were 
loa,th to leave them. Nor was their journey through the inhos- 
pitable region of the hills devoid of incidents to vary the mono- 
tony of the way, and provoke hearty laughs from the whole 
party. One afternoon, one of the men had a somewhat perilous 
adventure with a grizzly bear. He saw the animal crouching 
his huge frame among- some vf illows which skirted the river, and, 
approaching on horseback to within twenty yards, lired upon 
him. The bear was onl}^ slightly wounded by the shot, and, 
with a fierce growl of angry malignity, rushed from his cover, 
and gave chase. The horse happened to be a slow one, and for 
the distance of half a mile the race was severely contested — the 
bear frequently approaching so near the terrified animal as to 
snap at his heels, while the equally terrified rider, who had lost 
his hat at the start, used w^liip and spur with the most frantic 
diligence, frequently looking- behind, from an influence which he 
could not resist, at his rugged and determined foe, and shrieking 
in an agony of fear, ' Shoot him ! shoot him ! ' The man, who 
was a young hunter, happened to be about a mile behind the 
main body, either from the indolence of his horse or his own 
carelessness ; but as he approached the party in his desperate 
flight, and his pitiable cries reached the ears of the men in 
front, about a dozen of them rode to his assistance, and soon 
succeeded in diverting the attention of his pertinacious foe. 
After the bear had received the contents of all the guns, he 
fell, and was soon despatched. The man rode in among his 
fellows, pale and haggard from overwrought feelings, and was 



probably eifectually cured of a propensity for meddling with 
grizzly bears. 

On the lOtli of June, the party arrived on the Green river, or 
Colorado of the west, which they forded, and encamped upon 
a spot v/hich was to form a rendezvous for all the mountain 
companies who left the states in spring", and also the trappers 
who come from various parts with furs collected by them during 
the previous year. 

Our traveller relates a misfortune which happened to him 
here. Having sallied forth with his gun, and wandered about 
for several hours shooting birds, he found on returning to the 
camp that his party had quitted the spot. In pursuing their 
track, he had to swim his horse across a deep and swift stream. 
After coming up with the party, he was congratulating himself 
on his escape from being drowned, when he found that he had 
lost his coat. " I had felt," he says, " uncomfortably warm w^hen 
I mounted, and had removed the coat and attached it carelessly 
to the saddle ; the rapidity of the current had disengaged it, and 
it vf as lost for ever. The coat itself was not of much consequence 
after the hard service it had seen, but it contained the second 
volume of my journal, a pocket compass, and other articles of 
essential value to me. I would gladly have relinquished every- 
thing the garment held, if I could but have recovered the book ; 
and although I returned to the river, and searched assiduously 
until night, and offered large rewards to the men, it could not 
be found." 

The loss of his journal, however, was not the only bad conse- 
quence of his river adventure. The ducking he had received 
brought on a fever which confined him to his tent for several 
days. It was well for him that they had now arrived at the 
rendezvous where the caravans always make some stay before 
proceeding on the remainder of their journey. Still, according 
to Mr Townsend^s account of the encampment, it was scarcely 
tjie best hospital for an invalid. As there were several other 
encampments stationed on the spot — among others that of the 
party of rival traders which had passed Captain Wyeth's party 
on the road — the encampment was constantly crowded with a 
heterogeneous assemblage of visitors. " The principal of these 
are Indians of the Nez Perce, Banneck, and Shoshone tribes, 
who come with the furs and peltries which they have been col- 
lecting at the risk of their lives during the past winter and 
spring, to trade for ammunition, trinkets, and fire-water. 
There is, in addition to these, a great variety of personages 
amongst us ; most of them calling themselves white men, French- 
Canadians, half-breeds, &c., their colour nearly as dark, and 
their mannei's whollj^ as wild, as the Indians with whom they 
constantly associate. These people, with their obstreperous 
mirth, their whooping', and howling, and quarrelling, added to 
the mounted Indians, who are constantly dashing into and 


tlirough our campj yelling like fiends, tlie barking* and baying 
of savag-e wolf-dogs, and the incessant cracking of rifles and 
carbines, render our camp a perfect bedlam. A more unpleasant 
situation for an invalid could scarcely be conceived. I am con- 
fined closely to the tent with illness, and am compelled all day 
to listen to the hiccoughing jargon of drunken traders, and the 
Swearing and screaming of our own men, who are scarcely less 
savage than the rest, being heated by the detestable liquor which 
circulates freely among them. It is very much to be regretted 
that at times like the present there should be a positive necessity 
to allow the men as much rum as they can drink ; but this course 
has been sanctioned and practised by all the leaders of parties 
who have hitherto visited these regions, and reform cannot be 
thought of now. The principal liquor in use is alcohol diluted 
with water. It is sold to the men at three dollars the pint ! 
Tobacco, of very inferior quality, such as could be purchased in 
Philadelphia at about ten cents per pound, here fetches two 
dollars ! and everything else in proportion. There is no coin in 
circulation, and these articles are therefore paid for by the inde- 
pendent mountain-men in beaver skins, buffalo robes, &c. ; and 
those who are hired to the companies, have them charged against 
their wages. I was somewhat amused by observing one of our 
newly-hired men enter the tent and order, with the air of a man 
who knew he would not be refused, twenty dollars worth of 
rum and ten dollars worth of sugar, to treat two of his compank)ns 
who were about leavings the rendezvous." 

At the rendezvous a number of men belonging to Captain 
Wyeth's party left it to join returning parties; but the diminu- 
tion of numbers thus occasioned was made up for by the accession 
of about thirty Indians — Flatheads, Nez Perces, and others, with 
their wives, children, and dogs. These Indians joined the party 
in order to enjoy the benefit of its convoy through the tract of 
country infested by the Blackfeet Indians — a fierce and warlike 
race, the terror both of Indians and whites. Here also the 
party was joined by two English gentlemen roaming the prairies 
for amusement. At length, on the 2d of July, the party bade 
adieu to the rendezvous, packed up their moveables, and journeyed 
along the bank of the river. The horses were much recruited 
by the long rest and good pasture, and, like their masters, v/ ere 
in excellent spirits for renewing the route across the wilderness. 

They had now reached the confines of the Kocky Mountains, 
from which originate the upper tributaries of the Missouri on 
the one side, and those of the Columbia on the other. The plains 
in this high region are more rugged and barren than in the lower 
territories, and occasionally present evidences of volcanic action, 
being thickly covered with masses of lava and high basaltic 
crags. The principal vegetation on the hills consists of small 
cedars, while on the plains nothing flourishes but the shrubby 
wormwood or sage. Mr Townsend had an opportunity, in these 



melancholy wastes, of becoming' acquainted with a variety of 
animals, particularly birds. He met with flocks of a beautiful 
bird, called the cock of the plain (Tetrao urophasianus). which 
was so very tame, or rather so little accustomed to evil treatment, 
as to mingle familiarly with the cavalcade, and to suffer itself to 
be knocked down by whips. 

On the 10th of July, the party encamped near the Blackfeefe 
river, a small sluggish stagnant stream which empties itself into 
iha Bear river. Here they had a ra^ther stirring adventure with 
a grizzly bear. " As we approached our encampment," says Mr 
Townsend, ^' near a small grove of willows on the margin 
of the river, a tremendous grizzh^ bear rushed out upon 
us. Our horses ran wildly in every direction, snorting with 
terror, and became nearly unmanageable. Several balls were 
instantly fired into him, but they only seemed to increase his 
fury. After spending a moment in rending each wound (their 
invariable practice), he selected the person who happened to be 
nearest, and darted after him ; but before he proceeded far, he was 
sure to be stopped again by a ball from another quarter. In this 
way he was driven about amongst us for perhaps fifteen minutes, 
at times so near some of the horses, that he received several 
severe kicks from them. One of the pack-horses was fairly 
fastened upon by the fearful claws of the brute, and in the terri- 
iied animal's efforts to escape the dreaded gripe, the pack and 
saddle were broken to pieces and disengaged. One of our mules 
also lent him a kick in the head while pursuing it up an adjacent 
hill, which sent him rolling to the bottom. Here he was finally 
brought to a sta,nd. The poor animal was so completely sur- 
rounded \sj enemies that he became bewildered \ he raised him- 
self upon his hind feet, standing- almost erect, his mouth partly 
open, and from his protruding tongue the blood fell fast in drops. 
While in this position he received about six more balls, each of 
which made him reel. At last, as in complete desperation, he 
dashed into the water and swam several yards with astonishing 
strength and agility, the guns cracking at him constantly. But 
he was not to proceed far; for just then Richardson, who had 
been absent, rode up, and fixing his deadly aim upon him, fired a 
ball into the back of his head, which killed him instantly. The 
strength of four men was required to drag the ferocious brute 
from the water, and upon examining his body, he was found 
completely riddled ; there did not appear to be four inches of his 
shaggy person, from the hips upward, that had not received a 
ball; there must have been at least thirty shots fired at him, 
and probably few missed ; yet such was his tenacity of life, that 
I have no doubt he v/ould have succeeded in crossing the river 
but for the last shot in the brain. He would probably weigh at 
the least six hundred pounds, and was about the height of an 
ordinary steer. The spread of the foot laterally was ten inches, 
and the claws measured seven inches in length. This animal 



was remarkabljr lean : when in good condition he would doubt- 
less much exceed in weight the estimate I have given. Richard- 
son and two other hunters in company killed two in the course 
of the afternoon, and saw several others." 

Although it vf as known that parties of Blackfeet were hanging: 
in the route of the caravan, our travellers fortunately escaped 
being attacked by these dreaded Indians ; and on the 14th, having 
reached the banks of the ^ne large Shoshone or Snake, also called 
Lewis river, they came to a halt for the purpose of erecting a fort, 
according to their instructions, and also of enjoying a rest of a 
fortnight or three weeks before renewing their journey. Nearly 
four months had now elapsed since they had commenced their 
expedition, and there were various evidences that they were ap- 
proaching its close. The Snake river, on the banks of which they 
were encamped, pours its waters directly into the Columbia, and 
as they tried to form some idea of the great Oregon river from the 
size oi* its tributary, it became evident that they were approach- 
ing the western shore of the vast North American continent. 

Food, however, was becoming scarce, the stock of dried 
buifalo meat being nearly exhausted; and therefore, while the 
majority of the party should remain to build a fort on the banks 
of the Snake river, it was resolved that a hunting party of twelve 
persons should start on the back track to shoot buii^lo, and return 
to the fort in eight or nine days with the fruits of their diligence. 
To this party Mr Townsend attached himself. The hunters were 
successful in procuring buffalo, on which they now entirely fed, 
besides bringing a quantity in a dried state to the camp. Ex- 
posed constantly to the pure air, and having abundant exercise, 
the appetites of the party were most ravenous. Rising in the 
morning v/ith the sun, they kindled a fire and roasted their 
breakfast, which consisted of from one to two pounds of meat. 
At ten o'clock they lunched on meat ; at two they dined on 
meat ; at five they supped on meat ; at eight they had a second 
supper of meat; and during the night, v/hen they awoke, they 
took a snatch at any meat within reach. Their food was thus 
entirely meat, without bread or any other article except water, 
which was their sole beverage. On this plain and substantial 
fare they enjoyed robust health. 

Having heard that a ball in the middle of the forehead was 
never known to kill a buffalo, Mr Townsend determined to try 
the experiment. Accordingly one evening, seeing a large bull 
close at hand, he sallied forth with the utmost caution in the 
direction of his victim. " The unwieldy brute," he says, " was 
quietly and unsuspiciously, cropping the herbage, and I had ar- 
rived to within ten feet of him, when a sudden flashing of the 
eye, and an impatient motion, told me that I was observed. He 
raised his enormous head and looked around him, and so truly 
terrible and grand did he appear, that I must confess I felfc 
awed; almost frightened, at the task I had undertaken. But 



I liad gone too far to retreat ; so, raising* my gun, I took deli- 
berate aim at tlie bnshy centre of the forehead, and fired. The 
monster shook his head, pawed up the earth with his hoofs, and 
making* a sudden spring, accompanied by a terrific roar, turned 
to make his escape. At that instant the ball from the second 
barrel penetrated his vitals, and he measured his huge length 
upon the ground. In a few seconds he was dead. Upon exa- 
mining the head, and cutting away the enormous mass of matted 
hair and skin which enveloped the skull, my large bullet of 
twenty to the pound was found completely flattened against the 
bone, having carried with it, through the interposing integu- 
ment, a considerable portion of the coarse hair, but without pro- 
ducing the smallest fracture. I was satisfied; and taking the 
tongue — the hunter's perquisite — I returned to my companions." 

Some of the party had seen Blackfeet Indians skulking about, 
and the effect was to put the hunters more on their guard. They 
were now certain that their worst enemies, the Blackfeet, were 
around them, and that they only waited for a favourable oppor- 
tunity of making an attack. It was felt that these savage wan- 
derers were not there for nothing, and that the greatest care was 
necessary to prevent a surprise. 

The Blackfeet is a sworn and determined foe to all white men, 
and he has often been heard to declare that he would rather hang 
the scalp of a pale-face to his girdle, than kill a buffalo to pre- 
vent his starving. The hostility of this dreaded tribe is, and has 
for years been, proverbial. They are, perhaps, the only Indians 
who do not fear the power, and who refuse to acknowledge the 
superiority of the white man; and though so often beaten in 
conflicts with them, even by their own mode of warfare, and 
generally with numbers vastly inferior, their indomitable courage 
and perseverance still urges them on to renewed attempts ; and 
if a single scalp is taken, it is considered equal to a great vic- 
tory, and is hailed as a presage of future and more extensive 

It must be acknowledged, however, that this determined hos- 
tility does not originate solely in savage malignity, or an abstract 
thirst for the blood of white men ; it is fomented and kept alive 
from year to year by incessant provocatives on the part of white 
hunters, trappers, and traders, who are at best but intruders on 
the rightful domain of the red man of the wilderness. '- Many 
a night,'' adds our traveller, ^^ have I sat at the camp fire and 
listened to the recital of bloody and ferocious scenes, in which 
the narrators were the actors, and the poor Indians the victims, 
and I have felt my blood tingle with shame, and boil with indig- 
nation, to hear the diabolical acts applauded by those for whose 
amusement they were related. Many a precious villain and 
merciless marauder was made by these midnight tales of rapine, 
murder, and robbery ; many a stripling, in whose tender mind 
the seeds of virtue and honesty had never germinated, burned 



for an opportunity of loading Ms pack-liorse -with, tlie beaver 
skins of some solitary Blackfeet trapper, who was to be mur- 
dered and despoiled of the property he had acquired by weeks 
and perhaps months of toil and danger." 

The proximity of the Blackfeet caused the old hunters to recol- 
lect their former adventures in the same neighbourhood ; and one 
evening, as the party sat around the camp fire, wrapped in their 
warm blankets^ these old hunters became talkative^ and related 
their individual adventures for the general amusement. The 
best story was one told by Eichardson, of a meeting he once had 
with three Blackfeet Indians. He had been out alone hunting 
buffalo, and towards the end of the day was returning to the 
camp with his meat, when he heard the clattering of hoofs in the 
rear, and upon looking back, observed three Indians in hot pur- 
suit of him. To lighten his horse, he immediately threw off the 
meat he carried, and then urged the animal to his utmost speed, 
in an attempt to distance his pursuers. He soon discovered, 
however, that the enemy was rapidly gaining upon him, and 
that in a few minutes more he would be completely at their 
mercy, when he hit upon an expedient as singular as it was bold 
and courageous. Drawing his long scalping-knife from the sheath 
at his side, he plunged the keen weapon through his horse's neck, 
and severed the spine. The animal dropped instantly dead, and 
the determined hunter, throwing himself behind the fallen car- 
cass, waited calmly the approach of his sanguinary pursuers. In 
a few moments one Indian was within range of the fatal rifle, 
and at its report his horse galloped riderless over the plain. The 
remaining two then thought to take him at advantage by ap- 
proaching simultaneously on both sides of his rampart ; but one 
of them happening to venture too near in order to be sure of his 
aim, was shot to the heart by the long pistol of the white man 
at the very instant that the ball from the Indian's gun whistled 
harmlessly by. The third savage, being wearied of the dangerous 
game, applied the v/hip vigorously to the flanks of his horse, and 
was soon out of sight, while Richardson set about collecting the 
trophies of his singular victory. He caught the two Indians' 
horses, mounted one, and loaded the other with the meat which 
he had discarded, and returned to his camp with two spare rifles, 
and a good stock of ammunition. 

Having now procured a sufficient quantity of buffalo meat, the 
hunting party set out on its return to the fort, and arrived there 
on the 25th, after nine days' absence. Their return had been 
anxiously expected, and " I could well perceive," says Mr Towns- 
end, " many a longing and eager gaze cast upon the well-filled 
bales of buffalo meat as our mules swung their little bodies through 
the camp. My companion, Mr Nuttall, had become so exceedingly 
thin that I could scarcely have known him ; and upon my ex- 
pressing surprise at the great change in his appearance, he heaved 
a sigh of inanity, and remarked that I ' would have heen as 



thin as he, if I had lived on old bear for two weeks, and short 
allowance of that.' I found, in truth, that the whole camp had 
been subsisting* during" our absence on little else than two or 
three grizzly bears which had been killed in the neig-hbourhood ; 
and with a complacent g"lance at my own rotund and cow-fed 
person, I wished my poor friend better luck for the future.^' 

Another travelling- company had encamped on the banks of 
the Snake river during- the absence of the hunting- party. It 
consisted of thirty men, thirteen of them Indians, Nez Perces, 
Chinooks, and Kayouse, the remainder French-Canadians and 
half-breeds. Mr M'Kay, the leader of this company, was the 
son of Mr Alexander M'Kay, one of the early adventurers across 
the prairies, the tragical story of whose massacre by the Indians 
on the north-west coast is told by Washing-ton Irving- in his 
" Astoria." Mr Townsend gives an interesting- description of 
this company and its captain. " On the evening of the 26th,*' 
he says, " Captain Wyeth, Mr Nuttall, and myself, supped with 
Mr M^Kay in his lodge. I am much pleased with this gentle- 
man ; he unites the free, frank, and open manners of the moun- 
tain man, with the grace and affability of the Frenchman. But 
above all, I admire the order, decorum, and strict subordination 
which exists among his men ; so different from what I have been 
accustomed to see in parties composed of Americans. Mr M^Kay 
assures me that he had considerable diiiiculty in bringing his 
men to the state in which they now are. The free and fearless 
Indian was particularly difficult to subdue ; but steady deter- 
mined perseverance and bold measures, aided by a rigid self- 
example, made them as clay in his hand, and has finally reduced 
them to their present admirable condition. If the}^ misbehave, 
a commensurate punishment is sure to follow. In extreme cases 
flagellation is resorted to, but it is inflicted only by the hand of 
the captain ; were any other appointed to perform this office on 
an Indian, the indignity would be deemed so great that nothing 
less than the blood of the individual could appease the wounded 
feelings of the savage. After supper was concluded, we sat down 
on a buffalo robe at the entrance of the lodge to see the Indians 
at their devotions. The whole thirteen were soon collected at 
the call of one whom they had chosen for their chief, and seated 
with sober sedate countenances around a large fire. After re- 
maining in perfect silence for perhaps fifteen minutes, the chief 
commenced a harangue in a solemn and impressive tone, remind- 
ing them of the object for which they were thus assembled — that 
of worshipping the ^ Great Spirit who made the light and the 
darkness, the fire and the water,' and assured them that if they 
offered up their prayers to him with but ^ one tongue,' they 
would certainly be accepted. He then rose from his squatting 
position to his knees, and his example was followed by all the 
others. In this situation he commenced a prayer, consisting of 
short sentences, uttered rapidly but with great apparent fervour, 



Jdis hands clasped upon his breast, and his eyes cast upwards with 
a beseeching" look towards heaven. At the conclusion of each 
sentence, a choral response of a few words w^as made, accom- 
panied frequently by low moaning*. The prayer lasted about 
twenty minutes. 

After its conchision, the chief, still maintaining* the same posi- 
tion of his body and hands, but with his head bent to his breast, 
commenced a kind of psahn or sacred song", in which the whole 
company presently joined. The song was a simple expression 
of a few sounds, no intelligible words being uttered. It resembled 
the words Ho-ha-ho-ha-ho-ha-lia-aj commencing in a low tone, 
and gradually swelling to a full, round, and beautifully modu- 
lated chorus. During the song the clasped hands of the wor- 
shippers were moved rapidly across the breast, and their bodies 
swung' with great energy to the time of the music. The chief 
ended the song by a kind of swelling groan, which was echoed 
in chorus. It v/as then taken up by another, and the same 
routine was gone through. The whole ceremony occupied pei'- 
haps an hour and a half; a short silence then succeeded, after 
which each Indian rose from the ground, and disappeared in the 
darkness with a step noiseless as that of a spectre, I think I 
never was more gratified by any exhibition in my life. The 
humble, subdued, and beseeching* looks of the poor untutored 
beings who were calHng upon their heavenly father to forgive 
their sins, and continue his mercies to them, and the evident 
and heartfelt sincerity which characterised the whole scene, was 
truly affecting* and very impressive. 

The next day being the Sabbath, our good missionary, Mr 
Jason Lee, was requested to hold a meeting, with which he 
obligingly complied. A convenient shady spot was selected in 
the forest adjacent, and the greater part of our men, as well as 
the whole of Mr McKay's company, including the Indians, 
attended. The usual forms of the Methodist service, to which 
Mr Lee is attached, were gone through, and were followed by a 
brief but excellent and appropriate exhortation by that gentle- 
man. The people were remarkably quiet and attentive, and the 
Indians sat upon the ground like statues. Although not one of 
them could understand a v/ord that was said, they nevertheless 
maintained the most strict and decorous silence, kneeling when 
the preacher kneeled, and rising when he rose, evidently with a 
view of paying him and us a suitable respect, however much 
their own notions as to the proper and most acceptable forms of 
worship mig'ht have been opposed to ours. A meeting for wor- 
ship in the llocky Mountains is almost as unusual as the appear- 
ance of a herd of buffalo in the settlements. A sermon was 
perhaps never preached here before, but for myself I really en- 
joyed the whole scene : it possessed the charm of novelty, to say 
nothing of the salutary effect w^hich I sincerely hope it may pro- 



After having" completed tlie fort^ and raised tlie American flag* 
upon itj the party on the 6th of Aug'ust recommenced their 
journey westward, leaving some men in charge of the building. 
The company consisted now but of thirty men, several Indian 
women, and one hundred and sixteen horses. Having left most 
of the fresh buffalo meat brought in by the hunting party in 
the fort for the subsistence of the small garrison, they had to be 
contented with the old dry meat they had carried for many 
weeks in their hampers, varied with the flesh of a grizzly bear, 
or any such animal which good fortune might send across their 
path. Nor was this the worst, for on the very day after leaving 
the fort, having travelled from sunrise over an arid plain covered 
with jagged masses of lava and twisted wormwood bushes, and 
where not a drop of water was to be seen, they began to suffer 
dreadfully from thirst. Every man kept a bullet or smooth 
stone in his mouth, mumbling it to provoke the saliva. At last 
one of the men, a mulatto, "cast himself resolutely from his 
horse to the ground, and declared that he would lie there till he 
died ; ^ there was no water in this horrid country, and he might 
as well die here as go farther.' Some of us tried to infuse a little 
courage into him, but it proved of no avail, and each was too 
much occupied with his own particular grief to use his tongue 
much in persuasion ; so we left him to his fate. 

Soon after nightfall, some signs of water were seen in a small 
valley to our left, and upon ascending it, the foremost of the 
party found a delightful little cold spring ; but they soon ex- 
hausted it, and then commenced, with axes and knives, to dig 
it out and enlarge it. By the time that Mr Nuttall and myself 
arrived, they had excavated a large space, which was filled to 
overflowing with muddy water. We did not wait for it to settle, 
however, but throwing ourselves flat upon the ground, drank 
until we were ready to burst. The tales which I had read of 
suffering travellers in the Arabian deserts then recurred with 
some force to my recollection, and I thought I could, though in 
a very small measure, appreciate their sufferings by deprivation, 
and their unmingled delight and satisfaction in the opportunity 
of assuaging them. 

Poor Jim, the mulatto man, was found hj one of the people 
who went back in search of him lying where he had first fallen, 
and, either in a real or pretended swoon, still obstinate about 
dying, and scarcely heeding the assurances of the other that 
water was within a mile of him. He was, however, at length 
dragged and carried into camp, and soused head foremost into 
the mud puddle, where he drank until his eyes seemed ready to 
burst from his head, and he was lifted out and laid dripping and 
flaccid upon the ground." 

The ground over which the party was travelling, was becom- 
ing more and more rugged and rocky. They entered a defile 
between the mountains, about five hundred yards wide, covered 



like tlie surrounding' country witli pines ; and as tliey proceeded^ 
the timber grew so closely, added to a thick undergrowth of 
bushes, that It appeared almost impossible to proceed with their 
horses. The farther they advanced the more their difficulties 
seemed to increase ; obstacles of various kinds impeded their 
progress — fallen trees, their branches tangled and matted toge- 
ther ; large rocks and deep ravines ; holes in the ground, into 
which their animals would be precipitated without the possibility 
of avoiding them ; and a hundred other difficulties. 

After travelling for six miles through this defile, two of the 
party, Captain Wyeth and the experienced hunter Kichardson^ 
set out to explore the foreground, and look for a pass through 
the mountains. They returned next morning with the mortify- 
ing intelligence that no pass could be found. They had climbed 
to the very summit of the highest peaks above the snow and the 
reach of vegetation, and the only prospect they had was a con- 
fused mass of huge angular rocks, over which a wild goat could 
scarcely make his v/ay. The captain also had a narrow escape 
from being dashed to pieces during the excursion. He was 
walking on a ridge which sloped from the top at an angle of 
about lorty degrees, and terminated at its lower part in a per- 
pendicular precipice of a thousand or twelve hundred feet. He 
was moving along in the snow cautiously, near the lower edge, 
in order to attain a more level spot beyond, when his feet slipped 
and he fell. Before he could attempt to ^:^ himself firmly, he slid 
down the declivity till within a few feet of the frightful precipice. 
At the instant of his fall, he had the presence of mind to plant 
the rifle which he held in one hand, and his knife which he drew 
from the scabbard with the other, into the snow, and as he almost 
tottered on the verge, he succeeded in checking himself, and 
holding his body perfectly still. He then gradually moved, first 
the rifle and then the knife, backward up the slanting hill behind 
him, and fixing them firmly, drew up his body parallel to them. 
In this way he moved slowly and surely until he had gained his 
former position, when, without further difficulty, he succeeded in 
reaching the more level land. 

Disappointed in finding a pass through the mountains at this 
point, the party altered the bearing of their route, and at last 
they came upon the remains of a recent encampment of Indians. 
Following the trail of these Indians, they entered a valley similar 
to that which they had just explored, and terminating in a path 
over the mountains. Mr Townsend thus describes their toilsome 
march across these heights. " The commencement of the Alpine 
path was, however, far better than we had expected, and we 
entertained the hope that the passage could be made without 
difficulty or much toil ; but the farther we progressed, the more 
laborious the travelling became. Sometimes we mounted steep 
banks of intermingled flinty rock and friable slate, where our 
horses could scarcely obtain a footing, frequently sliding down 



several feet on the loose broken stones. Again we passed along 
the extreme verg'e of tremendous precipices at a giddy height, 
where at almost every step the stones and earth would roll from 
under our horses' feet, and we could hear them strike with a dull 
leaden sound on the craggy rocks below. The whole journey 
to-day, from the time we arrived at the heights until we had 
crossed the mountain, has been a most fearful one. For myself, 
I might have diminished the danger very considerably by 
adopting the plan pursued by the rest of the company, that of 
"walking and leading my horse over the most dangerous places ; 
but I have been suffering for several days with a lame foot, and 
am Avholly incapable of such exertion. I soon discovered that an 
attempt to guide my horse over the most rugged and steepest 
ranges was worse than useless, so I dropped the rein upon the 
animal's neck, and allowed him to take his own course, closing 
my eyes and keeping as quiet as possible in the saddle. But I 
could not forbear starting occasionally when the feet of my 
horse would slip on a stone and one side of him would slide 
rapidly towards the edge of the precipice ; but I always recovered 
myself by a desperate effort, and it was fortunate for me that I 
did so.'' 

The party continued its march for several days through tliis 
rugged and inhospitable region, coming into occasional contact 
with parties of the Snake Indians, and subsisting* on the kamas, 
a kind of root resembling the potato, which is found in the 
prairie; on cherries, berries, and small fruit, which they found 
growing on bushes ; and also on an occasional chance prize of ani- 
mial food. " At about daylight on the morning of the 20th," says 
Mr Townsend, " having charge of the last guard of the night, I 
observed a beautiful sleek little colt, of about four months old, 
trot into the camp, winnying with great apparent pleasure, and 
dancing and curvetting gaily among^st our sober and sedate 
band. I had no doubt that he had strayed from Indians, who 
were probably in the neighbourhood ; but as here every animal 
that comes near us is fair game, and as we were hungry, not 
having eaten anything of consequence since yesterday morning, 
I thought the little stranger would make a good breakfast for us. 
Concluding, however, that it would be best to act advisedly in the 
matter, I put my head into Captain Wyeth's tent, and telling* 
him the news, made the proposition which had occurred to me. 
The captain's reply was encouraging enough — ' Down with him, 
if you please, Mr Townsend ; and let us have him for breakfast.' 
Accordingly, in live minutes afterwards a bullet sealed the fate 
of the unfortunate visitor, and my men were set to work, making 
fires and rummaging out the long-neglected stew-pans, while I 
engaged myself in flaying the little animal, and cutting up his 
body in readiness for the pots. 

When the camp was aroused about an hour after, the savoury 
steam of the cookery was rising and saluting the nostrils of our 



hungry people with its fragrance, who, rubbing* their hands with 
dehgh't, sat themselves down upon the g'round, waiting- with 
what patience they might for the unexpected repast which w^as 
preparing' for them. It was to me almost equal to a good break- 
fast to witness the pleasure and satisfaction which I had been 
the means of diffusing through the camp. The repast was ready 
at length, and we did full justice to it ; every man ate until he 
was filled, and all pronounced it one of the most delicious meals 
they had ever assisted in demolishing. When our breakfast was 
concluded, but little of the colt remained ; that little was, how- 
ever, carefully packed up and deposited on one of the horses, to 
furnish at least a portion of another meal.'' 

In the afternoon of the same day, after a long march, they 
procured three small salmon from some Indians who were fishing 
on the Mallade river ; and these, cooked along with a grouse, a 
beaver, and the remains of the pony, made a very savoury mess. 
" While we were eating, we were visited by a Snake chief, a large 
and powerful man, of a peculiarly dignified aspect and manner. 
He was naked, with the exception of a small blanket which 
covered his shoulders, and descended to the middle of the back, 
being fastened around the neck with a silver skew^er. As it was 
pudding time with us, our visitor was of course invited to sit down 
and eat ; and he, nothing loath, deposited himself at once upon the 
ground, and made a remarkably vigorous assault upon the mixed 
contents of the dish. He had not eaten long, however, before we 
perceived a sudden and inexplicable change in his countenance, 
which w^as instantly followed by a violent ejectment of a huge 
mouthful of our luxurious fare. The man rose slowly and with 
great dignity to his feet, and pronouncing the sing'le word 
shehim (horse), in a tone of mingled anger and disgust, stalked 
rapidly out of the camp, not even wishing us a good evening. It 
struck me as a singular instance of accuracy and discrimination 
in the organs of taste. We had been eating of the multifarious 
compound without being able to recognise by the taste a single 
ingredient which it contained ; a stranger came amongst us, who 
did not know, vdien he commenced eating, that the dish was 
formed of more than one item, and yet in less than fiYe minutes 
he discovered one of the very least of its component parts.*' 

The neighbourhood of these Snake Indians was not very agree- 
able to our travellers for many reasons. Mr Townsend paid a 
visit to their».camp, and the description he gives of it does not 
lead one to conceive a high idea of savage life. " Early in the 
morning," he says, ^' I strolled into the'Snake camp. "^It con- 
sists of about thirty lodges or wigw^ams, formed generally of 
branches of trees tied together in a conic summit, and covered 
with buffalo, deer, or elk skins. Men and little children were 
lolling about the ground all around the wigw^ams, together with 
a heterogeneous assemblage of dogs, cats, some tamed prairie 
wolveS; and other varmints. The dogs growled and snapped 



wlien I approaclied, the wolves cowered and looked cross, and the 
cats ran away and hid themselves in dark corners. They had 
not been accustomed to the face of a white man, and all the 
quadrupeds seemed to regard me as some monstrous production, 
more to be feared than loved or courted. This dislike, however, 
did not appear to extend to the bipeds, for many of every age 
and sex gathered around me, and seemed to be examining me 
critically in all directions. The men looked complacently at me, 
the women, the dear creatures, smiled upon me, and the little 
naked pot-bellied children crawled around my feet, examining 
the fashion of my hard shoes, and playing with the long fringes 
of my leathern inexpressibles. But I scarcely know how to com- 
mence a description of the camp, or to frame a sentence which 
will give an adequate idea of the extreme filth and horrific nasti- 
ness of the whole vicinity. 

Immediately as I entered the village, my olfactories were 
assailed by the most vile and mephitic odours, which I found to 
proceed chiefly from great piles of salmon entrails and garbage, 
which were lying festering and rotting in the sun around the 
very doors of the habitations. Fish, recent and half-dried, were 
scattered all over the ground under the feet jof the dogs, wolves, 
and children ; and others which had been split, were hanging 
on rude platforms erected within the precincts of the camp. 
Some of the women were making their breakfast of the great 
red salmon eggs as large as peas, and using a wooden spoon 
to convey them to their mouths. Occasionally, also, by way of 
varying the repast, they would take a huge pinch of a drying 
fish which was lying on the ground near them. Many of the 
children were similarly employed, and the little imps would also 
have hard contests with the dogs for a favourite morsel, the for- 
mer roaring and blubbering, the latter yelping and snarling, and 
both rolling over and over together upon the savoury soil. The 
whole economy of the lodges, and the inside and outside appear- 
ance, was of a piece with everything else about them — filthy 
beyond description ; the very skins which covered the wigwams 
were black and stiff with rancid salmon fat, and the dresses (if 
dresses they may be called) of the women were of the same 
colour and consistence from the same cause. These dresses are 
little square pieces of deer-skin, fastened with a thong around the 
loins, and reaching about half way to the knees ; the rest of the 
person is entirely naked. Some of the women had little children 
clinging like bullfrogs to their backs, without being fastened, 
and in that situation extracting their lactiferous sustenance from 
the breast, which was thrown over the shoulders. It is almost 
needless to say that I did not remain long in the Snake camp ; 
for although I had been a considerable time estranged from the 
abodes of luxury, and had become somevfhat accustomed to at 
least a partial assimilation to a state of nature, yet I was not pre- 
pared for what I saw here. I neyer had fancied anything so 



utterly abominaWe, and was glad to escape to a purer and more 
wholesome atmosphere." 

The party again toiled on, every day's march bringing them 
sensibly nearer the end of their journey. On the 2d of Septem- 
ber they reached the Utalla river, and here Captain Wyeth and 
two men left them to go on to the Walla Walla fort, a little way 
distant. Now that our travellers were to enter once more into 
civilised society, they began to feel a little anxiety about their 
toilet ; and Mr Townsend's description of the preparations they 
made on the occasion is rather amusing. " As we were ap- 
proaching so near the abode of those in whose eyes we wished to 
appear like fellow Christians, we concluded that there would be 
a propriety in attempting to remove at least one of the heathenish 
badges which we had worn throughout the journey ; so Mr 
NuttalFs razor was iished out from its hiding-place in the bottom 
of his trunk, and in a few minutes our encumbered chins lost 
their long-cherished ornaments ; we performed our ablutions in 
the river, arrayed ourselves in clean linen, trimmed our long hair, 
and then arranged our toilet before a mirror with great self-com- 
placence and satisfaction. I admired my own appearance con- 
siderably (and this is probably an acknowledgment that few 
would make), but I could not refrain from laughing at the 
strange party-coloured appearance of my physiognomy, the 
lower portion being fair like a woman's, and the upper brown 
and swarthy as an Indian." 


^^ About noon of the Sd of September," continues our traveller, 
" we struck the W^alla Walla river, a pretty stream of fifty or 
sixty yards in width, fringed with tall willows, and containing a 
number of salmon, which w^e can see frequently leaping from the 
water. The pasture here being good, we allowed our horses an 
hour's rest to feed, and then travelled over the plain until near 
dark, when, on ascending a sandy hill, the noble Columbia burst 
upon our view. I could scarcely repress a loud exclamation of 
delight and pleasure as I gazed upon the magnificent river flow- 
ing silently and majestically on, and reflected that I had actually 
crossed the vast American continent, and now stood upon a stream 
that poured its waters directly into the Pacific. This then was 
the great Oregon, the first appearance of w^hich gave Lewis and 
Clark so many emotions of joy and pleasure, and on this stream 
our indefatigable countrymen wintered after the toils and priva- 
tions of a long and protracted journey throug*h the wilderness. 
My reverie was suddenly interrupted hj one of the men exclaim- 
ing from his position in advance, ' There is the fort.' We had in 
truth approached very near without being conscious of it. There 
stood the fort on the bank of the river ; horses and horned cattle 
were roaming about the vicinity, and on the borders of the little 
Walla Walla w^e recognised the white tent of our long lost mis- 



sionaries. These we soon joined, and were met and received 
by them like brethren. Mr Nuttall and myself were invited to 
sup with them upon a dish of stewed hares which they had just 
prepared, and it is almost needless to say that we did full justice 
to the ^ood men's cookery. They told us that they had travelled 
comfortably from Fort Hall without any unusual fatig'ue, and 
like ourselves had no particularly stirring* adventures. Thei? 
route, although somewhat longer, was a much less toilsome and 
difficult one, and they suffered but little for want of food, being 
well provided with dried buffalo meat, which had been pre- 
pared near Fort Hall.'' 

At Walla Walla, the party broke up into sections, some intend- 
ing to reach Fort Vancouver in one way, some in another. The 
missionaries had engaged a large barge to convey them from 
Walla Walla directly to Vancouver, down the Columbia river, 
and Mr Townsend and Mr Nuttall were anxious to go along- with 
them ; but as the barge could not contain so many, they were 
obliged to travel on horseback to a point about eighty miles 
farther down the river, where Captain Wyeth engaged to wait 
for them and procure canoes to convey them to Vancouver. In 
the course of their land journey down the banks of the river, 
they passed a village of the Walla W^alla Indians, a tribe so 
remarkable for their honesty and moral deportment, that their 
conduct and habits amidst great privations shine in comparison 
with those of Christian communities. The river in this part is 
described as about three quarters of a mile wide — a clear, deep, 
and rapid stream. 

Having reached the appointed spot on the 10th of September, 
the travellers found the captain waiting with three canoes, each 
provided with an Indian helmsman, and on the 11th they embarked 
and commenced their voyag'e down stream. They had hardly set 
sail, however, when the wind " rose to a heavy gale, and the waves 
ran to a prodigious height. At one moment our frail bark danced 
upon the crest of a wave, and at the next fell with a surge into 
the trough of the sea ; and as we looked at the swell before us, it 
seemed that in an instant we must inevitably be engulfed. At 
such times the canoe ahead of us was entirely hidden from view, 
but she was observed to rise again like the seagull, and hurry on 
into the same danger. The Indian in my canoe soon became 
completely frightened : he frequently hid his face with his hands, 
and sang in a low melancholy voice a prayer which we had 
often heard from his people while at their evening- devotions. 
As our dangers were every moment increasing, the man became 
at length absolutely childish, and with all our persuasion and 
threats we could not induce him to lay his jDaddle into the 
water. We were all soon compelled to put in shore, which we 
did without sustaining any damage ; the boats were hauled up 
high and dry, and we concluded to remain in our quarters until 
to-morrow, or until there was a cessation of the wind. In about an 



hour it lulled a little, and Captain Wyeth ordered the boats to 
he ag-ain launched, in the hope of being- able to weather a point 
about five miles below before the gale ag-ain commenced, where 
we could lie by until it should be safe to proceed. The calm 
proved^ as some of us had suspected, a treacherous one : in a very 
few minutes after we got under way, we were contending* with 
the same difficulties as before, and ag-ain our cowardly helms- 
man laid by his paddle and began mumbling his prayer. It was 
too irritating to be borne. Our canoe had swung round broad- 
side to the surge, and was shipping gallons of water at every 

At this time it was absolutely necessary that every man on 
board should exert himself to the utmost to head up the canoe 
and make the shore as soon as possible. Our Indian, however, 
still sat with his eyes covered, the most abject and contemptible 
looking thing I ever saw. We took him by the shoulders and 
threatened to throw him overboard if he did not immediately 
lend his assistance : we might as well have spoken to a stone. 
He was finally aroused, however, by our presenting a loaded 
gun at his breast. He dashed the muzzle away, seized his 
paddle again, and worked with a kind of desperate and wild 
energy until he sank back in the canoe completely exhausted. 
In the meantime the boat had become half-full of water, ship- 
ping a part of every surf that struck her ; and as we gained the 
shallows, every man sprang overboard, breast deep, and began 
hauling the canoe to shore. This was even a more difficult task 
than that of propelling her with the oars ; the water still broke 
over her, and the bottom was a deep kind of quicksand, in which 
we sank almost to the knees at every step, the surf at the same 
time dashing against us with such violence as to throw us re- 
peatedly upon our faces. We at length reached the shore, and 
hauled the canoe up out of reach of the breakers. She was then 
unloaded as soon as possible, and turned bottom upwards. The 
goods had suffered considerably by the wetting ; they were all 
unbaled, and dried by a large fire which we built on the shore." 

For two or three days they were tossed about on the river, 
now attempting to make way, now forced to land again, and 
always drenched to the skin. The missionaries and their party, 
too, who had set out in the bai^e from Walla Walla, were in no 
better plight. On the 14th the three canoes were again loaded, 
and again made the attempt to proceed ; but in a short while one 
of them was stove, and another greatly damaged, so that they 
had to be unloaded and drawn out of the water. An effort was 
now made to procure one or two canoes with a pilot from an 
Indian village ^ve miles below. This proved a hazardous and 
fatiguing journey; but was rewarded by getting one canoe and 
several Indians to assist in the navigation. With this reinforce- 
ment, and with the boats mended, the party again attempted the 
descent of the river. The voyage this time was more fortunate, 


and next day they all arrived at tlie fort, whicli was tlie end of 
their journey across the wilderness. The time occupied in this 
dangerous expedition had been six months and three days. 
Unharmed by fatig-ue or accident, with a constitution strength- 
ened by healthful exercise, and a mind buoyant with the novelty 
of the scenes they had passed through, the travellers felt sin- 
cerely thankful to that kind and overruling Providence which 
had watched over and protected them. 

At Fort Vancouver, Mr Townsend left the trading- part of the 
expedition, and procured a passage on board an American vessel, 
which carried him to the Sandwich Islands, and there he passed 
the winter months. He afterwards returned to the Columbia 
and its environs among the Rocky Mountains, to pursue his 
seientiiic researches 5 and his purpose being at length fulfilled, ^ 
he returned by sea, touching at Valparaiso on the South Ame- 
rican coast, and reached home after an absence of three years. 

It is gratifying to learn, that the researches of the two natu- 
ralists were eminently successful. Besides procuring specimens 
of many rare animals, Mr Townsend discovered in the course of 
his expedition about fifty-four new species, sixteen of which were 
quadrupeds, and twenty -eight birds. Mr Nuttall also made 
many important additions to botanical science. 


The large district of country on the Pacific, receiving the 
name of Oregon, v/hich can only be reached from the eastern 
settlements, as we have seen, hy an incalculable degree of labour, 
is of uncertain dimensions, but is generally considered to extend 
from the 42d to the 54th degree of north latitude, and from the 
Rocky Mountains westward to the Pacific. From the moun- 
tains, the country presents a comparatively abrupt slope, con- 
sisting of immense belts or terraces, disposed one below the other 
to the sea, but here and there interrupted by hilly ridges. 
The higher regions are rocky, wild, and covered with forests of 
huge pines and other trees; in the lower grounds, the land is 
open and fertile, furnishing grasses and edible roots in great pro- 

Towards the south, where the country borders on Mexico, the 
climate is mild, but afflicted with a rainy season, which, com- 
mencing in October, does not end till April. The tempests of 
wind and rain which occasionally occur are terrible. Near the 
northern limit, the extremes of heat and cold are greater, the 
winters being intensely severe. The principal animals found in 
the territory are bears, wild horses, small deer, wolves, and 
foxes ; otters and beavers are plentiful on the banks of the rivers, 
whose waters abound with the finest salmon and seals. The 
Indian races are thinly scattered over this extensive region, 
and are not supposed to number more than 170,000 individuals. 

Little, however, is distinctly known of the Oregon. Few have 



explored it except hunters. The attention of travellers has been 
chiefly confined to the river Columbia or Oregon, the latter name 
having" been communicated to the country. This river^ politically 
and commercially, is the gTcat point of attraction ; for from it is 
expected a means of descending to the Pacific from the interior. 
The upper part of the river is formed by two main branches^ 
winding their way amidst the valleys of the Rocky Mountains * 
and the more southerly of these tributaries is said to reach to with- 
in 200 miles of the head waters of the Missouri. Formed by these* 
and many smaller streams, the Oregon flows in a westerly direc- 
tion to the Pacific, pretty nearly dividing the country into two 
equal parts. In a direct line, the space over which it runs is 650 
miles in breadth ; but as it winds considerably, the entire length 
of the river is probably as much as 1000 miles. 

According to the accounts of Townsend, Lewis and Clark^ 
Washington Irving in his "Astoria," and others, the Oregon, 
though a large river, is exceedingly difficult of navigation, being 
very various in breadth and force of current, impeded by rocks, 
islands, cascades, and rapids, and exposed to furious gusts of 
wind, against which no skill can afford protection. In some 
places the banks are flat and marshy, covered with trees and 
bushes which flourish only in swamps, and in others they are 
high and precipitous, hemming in the waters which dash to 
and fro at their base. The bar or estuary is infested with 
breakers, which render the ingress and egress always hazardous ; 
the tide rises about eight and a half feet at the mouth, and 
ascends the stream about 160 miles. Vessels of 300 tons may 
reach the Multnomah branch, about sixty miles below the great 
falls, and sloops of small burden go up nearly to the rapids. 
Beyond this point all is difliculty and danger, and the smallest 
craft have to be taken from the stream, and carried over the 
numerous rocky impediments. 

The greatest of the falls is at about 180 miles above the 
mouth of the river. The first is a perpendicular cascade of 
twenty feet, after which there is a swift descent for a mile, be- 
tween islands of hard black rock, to another pitch of eight 
feet divided by two rocks. About tw^o and a half miles below 
this the river expands into a wide basin, seemingly dammed up 
by a perpendicular edge of black rock. A current, however, 
sets diagonally to the left of this rocky barrier, where there is a 
chasm forty-five yards in width. Through this the whole body 
of the waters roars along, swelling, and whirling, and boiling 
for some distance in the wildest confusion. Through this tre- 
mendous channel the first explorers of the river, Lewis and 
Clark, passed adventurously in their boats ; the danger not being 
from the rocks but from the great surges and whirlpools. At 
the distance of a mile and a half from the foot of this narrow 
channel is a rapid formed by two rocky islands ; and two miles 
beyond is a second great fall over a ledge of rocks twenty feet 



liig-h, extending' nearly from shore to shore. The 
compressed into a channel from fifty to a hundred feet wide, 
worn through a rough bed of hard black rock, along- which it 
boils and roars with great fury for the distance of three miles. 
This is called the Long- Narrows. Such are a few of the features 
of the Columbia or Oregon, as mentioned by Irving and other 
American writers ; the impression left on our minds, from allw^e 
have read on the subject, being that it is a river in its present 
condition of little commercial value ; and how many millions of 
pounds sterling would be required to provide its navigation with 
artificial side-locks and channels, it would be presumptuous for 
us to say. 

The only establishments of the whites are the Hudson Bay 
Company's posts and settlements, and the missionary stations of 
the American Board of Foreign Missions, the country generally 
being still in possession of the native tribes. Fort Vancouver, 
the company's principal depot, stands on the north side of the 
river, 100 miles from its mouth, in the midst of fertile and 
beautiful prairies. The fort is merely a stockade, inclosing the 
company's buildings, surrounded by about fifty huts, occupied 
by the mechanics and labourers, with their Indian wives and 
slaves, who number in all about 800 persons. The stations of 
the American mission board are Astoria and Clatsop, both 
situated near the mouth of the river — the former on the north 
and the latter on the southern shore. Besides these there are 
various posts scattered over the interior; latterly the territory has 
received a number of Anglo-American settlers from the states ; 
and from the enterprising character of that people, it seems not 
unlikely that in a few years, in spite of every obstacle, it will be 
extensively settled upon by them. 

As is generally known, the United States prefer a claim to the 
greater part, if not the whole of the Oreg-on territory, while Great 
Britain disputes this title, and asserts a claim to at least joint 
occupancy, a right of navigating the Columbia, and of forming- 
settlements and trading posts in the country. To the British, 
with their feeble and cumbrous colonial policy, this far distant 
territory can never be anything but an engine of trouble and 
expense ; or at best, the mere resort of hunters and fur-traders, 
from whose feats the nation at large can derive little economical 
advantage. Even did it present an average field for emigration 
■ — Avhich is rendered more than dubious by the character both of 
the soil and climate — still, considering that it is between two and 
three thousand miles distant from the farthest verge of Western 
Canada, and of ver}^ tedious and dangerous access by sea, it can 
by no means form an acquisition of peculiar value to a country 
whose accessible possessions are already so extensive. Viewed 
in whatever light, it is exceedingly desirable that the conflicting 
claims of the British and United States governments resj)ecting 
the Oregon were amicably and speedily adjusted. 




it^ N a beautiful mornin 

g in summer, Mrs Mason, a lady 
an active and useful life, but now was 

H^^iWiS desirous of retiring* for the sake of her health to a 
^^p^ pleasant part of the country, arrived at the village of 

Glenburnie. Situated near the head of a glen, or romantic 

yj valley, the village was small and picturesque, but, like too 
^ is many villages and hamlets in Scotland, it showed that 
*V^ nothing" was done to make it neat, cleanly, or attractive. It 
consisted of about twenty or thirty thatched cottages, which, but 
for their chimneys, and the smoke that issued from them, might 
have passed for so many stables or hogsties, so little had they to 
distinguish them as the dwellings of man. That one horse, at 
least, was the inhabitant of every dwelling, there was no room to 
doubt, as every door could not only boast its dunghill, but had a 
small cart stuck up on end directly before it ; which cart, though 
often broken, and always dirty, seemed ostentatiously displayed 
as a proof of wealth. 

In the middle of the village stood the kirk, a humble edifice, 
which meekly raised its head but a few degrees above the neigh- 
bouring houses, ornamented, however, by two old ash-trees, 
which grew at its east end, and spread their protecting arms over 
its lowly roof. As the houses of the village stood separate from 
each other, at the distance of many yards, our traveller had time 
to contemplate the scene, and was particularly struck with the 
number of children who, as the car advanced, poured forth to 
Jook at Mrs Mason and her friends, Mr and Miss Mary Stewart, 
No. 46. 1 


who accompanied lier in tlieir car. Mrs Mason having pre- 
viously arranged to stay for a short time in the village with the 
only relation she had in the world, who was married to a farmer 
named John Macclarty, she now asked for the house of that 
worthy, and after a severe jolting from the badness of the road^ 
was set doY/n opposite his door. 

It must he confessed that the aspect of the dwelling where she 
was to fix her residence v/as hy no means inviting. The walls 
were substantial — built of stone and lime — but they were 
blackened by the mud which the cart-wheels had spattered from 
the ruts in winter ; and on one side of the door they were covered 
from view hj th*e contents of a large dunghill. On the other, 
and directly mider the window, was a squashy pool, formed hj 
the dirty water thrown from the house, and in it about twenty 
young ducks were at this time dabbling. 

At the threshold of the door, room had been left for a paving- 
stone, but it had never been laid; and consequently the place 
became hollow, to the great advantage of the younger ducklings, 
which always found in it a plentiful supply of water, in which 
they could swim without danger. Happily Mr Stewart was 
provided v/ith boots, so that he could take a firm step in it, while 
he lifted Mrs Mason, and set her down in safety within the 
threshold. But there an unforeseen danger awaited her; for 
there the great whey-pot had stood since morning, when the 
cheese had been made, and was at the present moment filled with 
chickens, busily picking at the bits of curd which had hardened 
on the sides, and cruelly mocked their wishes. Over this Mr 
Stewart and Mrs Mason unfortunately tumbled. The pot was 
overturned, and the chickens, cackling with hideous din, flew 
about in all directions, some over their heads, and others making 
their way by the inner door into the house. 

The accident was attended wath no further bad consequences 
than a little hurt upon the shins ; and all our party were now 
assembled in the kitchen ; but though they found the doors of 
the house open, they saw no appearance of any inhabitants. At 
length Mrs Macclarty came in all out of breath, followed by 
her daughters, two big girls of eleven and thirteen years of age. 
She welcomed Mrs Mason and her friends with great kindness, 
and made many apologies for being in no better order to receive 
them ; but said that both her gudeman and herself thought that 
her cousin would have stayed with Mr Stewart at Gowan-brae till 
after the fair, as they were too far off at Glenburnie to think of 
going to it, though it would, to be sure, be only natural for Mrs 
Mason to like to see all the grand sights that were to be seen 
there ; for, to be sure, she would gang mony places before she 
saw the like. Mrs Mason smiled, and assured her she would 
have more pleasure in looking at the ^ne view from her door 
than in all the sights at the fair. 

" Ay, it's a bonny piece of corn, to be sure," returned Mrs 


Macclarty witli great simplicity ; " but then, what witli the 
trees, and rocks^ and wimpling's o' the burn, we have nae room 
to make parks o' ony size." 

" But were your trees, and rocks, and wimplings of the burn 
all removed," said Mr Stewart, " then your prospect would be 
worth the looking* at, Mrs Macclarty ; would it not 1 " 

Though Mr Stewart's irony was lost upon the good woman, it 
produced a laugh among the young folks, which she, however, 
did not resent, but immediately fell to busying herself in sweep- 
ing the hearth, and adding turf to the fire, in order to make the 
kettle boil for tea. ^ 

" I think," said Miss Mary, " you might make your daughters 
save you that trouble," looking at the two girls, who stood all 
this time leaning against the wall. 

" poor things," said their mother, " they have not been used 
to it ; they have eneugh of time for wark yet." 

" Depend upon it," said Mrs Mason, " young people can never 
begin too soon ; your eldest daughter there v/ill soon be as tall as 

"Indeed she's of a stately growth," said Mrs Macclarty, 
pleased with the observation ; " and Jenny there is little ahint 
her ; but what are they but bairns yet for a' that ? In time, I 
warrant, they'll do weel eneugh. Meg can milk a cow as weel 
as I can do, when she likes." 

"And does she not always like to do all she can?" said Mrs 

" O, we manna complain," returned the mother ; " she does 
weel eneugh." 

The gawky girl now beg'an to rub the wall up and down with 
her dirty fingers ; but happily the wall was of too dusky a hue 
to be easily stained. And here let us remark the advantage 
which our cottages in general possess over those of our southern 
neighbours, theirs being so whitened up that no one can have 
the comfort of laying a dirty hand upon them without leaving 
the impression; an inconvenience which reduces people to the 
necessity of learning to stan'd upon- their legs, without the 
assistance of their hands ; whereas in our country, custom has 
rendered the hands in standing at a door, or in going* up or 
down a stair, no less necessary than the feet, as may be plainly 
seen in the finger-marks which meet one's eye in all directions. 

While Mrs Macclarty was preparing tea for her guests, Mrs 
Mason cast her exploring eye on the house and furniture. She 
soon saw that the place they were in served in the triple capacity 
of kitchen, parlour, and bedroom. Its furniture was suitably 
abundant. It consisted, on one side, of a dresser, over which 
were shelves filled with plates and dishes, which she supposed to 
be of pewter ; but they had been so bedimmed by the quantities 
of flies that sat upon them, that she could not pronounce with 
certainty as to the metal they were made of. On the shelf that 



projected immediately next the dresser was a number of delf and 
wooden bowls, of different dimensions, with horn spoons, &c. 
These, thoug-h arrang-ed with apparent care, did not entirely 
conceal from view the dirty nightcaps and other articles that 
were stuffed in behind. 

Opposite the fireplace were two beds, each enclosed in a sort of 
wooden closet, so firmly built as to exclude the entrance of a 
breath of air, exce^Dt in front, where were small folding'-doors, 
which were now open, and exhibited a quantity of yarn hung* up 
in bunches — affording* proof of the goodwife's industry. The 
portable furniture, as chairs, tables, &c. were all, thoug*h clumsy, 
of g^ood materials ; so that Mrs Mason thought the place wanted 
nothing" but a little attention to neatness, and some more lig'ht, 
to render it tolerably comfortable. 

Miss Mary Stewart took upon herself the trouble of making* 
tea, and began the operation by rinsing all the cups and saucers 
through warm water ; at which Mrs Macclarty was so far from 
being offended, that the moment she perceived her intention she 
stepped to a huge Dutch press, and having with some difficulty 
opened the leaves, took from a store of nice linen, which it pre- 
sented to their view, a fine damask napkin, of which she begged 
her to make use. 

" You have a noble stock of linen, cousin,'^ said Mrs Mason. 
" Few farmers' houses in England could produce the like ; but I 
think this is rather too fine for common use." 

" For common use ! '* cried Mrs Macclarty ; " na, na, we're no 
sic fools as put our napery to use ! I have a dizen table-claiths 
in that press thirty years auld, that were never laid upon a 
table. They are a' o' my mother's spinning. I have nine o' my 
ain makin' forbye that never saw the sun but at the boukin 
washin. Ye needna be telling us o' England ! " 

" It is no doubt a good thing,'^ said Mrs Mason, " to have a 
stock of goods of any kind, provided one has a prospect of turn- 
ing them to account ; but I confess I think the labour unpro- 
iitably employed which, during thirty years, is to produce no 
advantage ; and that linen of an inferior quality would be pre- 
ferable, as it would certainly be more useful. A towel of nice 
clean huck-a-back would wipe a cup as well, and better, than a 
damask napkin." 

" Towels ! " cried Mrs Macclarty ; " na, na, we manna pretend 
to towels ; we just wipe up the things wi' what comes in the 

On saying this the good woman, to show how exactly she 
practised what she spoke, pulled out from between the seed-tub 
and her husband's dirty shoes (which stood beneath the bench 
by the fireside) a long blackened rag, and with it rubbed one of 
the pewter plates, with/ which she stepped into the closet for a 
roll of butter. " There," says she, " I'm sure ye'll say that ye 
never ate better butter in your life. There's no in a' Glenburnie 


better kye than ours. I hope ye'U eat heartily, and Fm sure 
ye're heartily welcome." 

" Look, sister/^ cried little William, "see, there are the marks 
of a thumb and two fing*ers ! do scrape it off, it is so nasty V^ 

" Dear me," said Mrs Macclarty, " I didna mind that I had 
been stirring* the tire, and my hands were a wee sooty ; but it 
will soon scrape aff; there's a dirty knife will take it afF in a 

" Stop, stop," cried Miss Mary, " that knife will only make it 
worse ; pray, let me manage it myself." 

She did so manag-e it that the bo^^s, who were very hungry, 
contrived to eat it to their oat-cakes with great satisfaction ; but 
though Mrs Mason made the attempt, the disgust with which 
she began was so augmented by the sight of the numerous hairs 
which, as the butter was spread, bristled up upon the surface, 
that she found it impossible to proceed. 

Here, thought she, is a home in which peace and plenty seem 
to reign, and yet these blessings, which I thought invaluable,- 
will not be sufficient to afford me any comfort, from the mere 
want of attention to the article of cleanliness. But may I notj 
remedy this ? She looked at Mrs Macclarty, and in the mild- 
features of a face which, notwithstanding all the disadvantages 
of slovenly dress and four days* soil (for this was Thursday), was ■ 
still handsome, she thought she perceived a candour that might 
be convinced, and a good nature that would not refuse to act 
upon conviction. Of the countenances of the two girls she could - 
not judge so favourably. The elder appeared morose and sullen, 
and the younger stupid and insensible. She was confirmed in 
her opinion by observing that, though their mother had severaL 
times desired them to go to the field for their father, neither of- 
them stirred a step. 

" Do you not hear your mother speaking to you ?" said Mi? 
Stewart in a tone of authority. The eldest coloured, and hung- 
down her head ; the younger girl looked in his face with a stupid 
stare, but neither of them made any answer. 

" YeHl gang, I ken, my dear," said Mrs Macclarty, addressing 
herself to the younger ; " oh ay, I ken ye'll gang', like a good 
bairn, Jean." 

Jean looked at her sister ; and Mrs Macclarty, ashamed of 
their disobedience, but still willing to palliate the faults which 
her own indulgence had created, said, " that indeed they never 
liked to leave her, poor things ! they were so bashful ; but that 
in time they would do weel eneugh." 

" They will never do well if they disobey their mother," said 
Mr Stewart ; " you ought to teach your children to obey you, 
Mrs Macclarty, for their sakes as well as for your own. Take 
my word for it, that if you don't, they, as well as you, will suffer 
from the consequences. But come, boys, we shall go to the 
iield ourselves, and see how the farmer's work goes on." 



Mrs Macclarty; g'lad of his proposal^ went to tlie door to point 
the way. Having* received lier directions, Mr Stewart, pointing" 
to the pool at the threshold, asked her how she could bear to 
have such dirtv doors. ^^ Why does not your husband fetch a 
stone from the quarry ?^^ said he. "People who are far from 
stones and from g'ravel may have some excuse, but you have 
the materials within your reach, and hj half a day's labour 
could have your door made clean and comfortable. How, then, 
can you have g'one on so long* with it in this condition ?" " In- 
deed I kenna, sir,'' said Mrs Macclarty; '^the g-udeman just 
canna be fashed." 

" And cannot you be fashed to go to the end of the house to 
throw out your dirty water? Don't you see how small a drain 
would from that carry it down to the river, instead of remaining' 
here to stagnate, and to suffocate you with intolerable stench ? " 

" Oh, we're just used to it," said Mrs Macclarty, " and we 
never mind it. We couldna be fashed to g'ang' sae far wi' a' the 

" But what," returned Mr Stewart, " will Mrs Mason think of 
all this dirt ? She has been used to see things in a very different 
sort of order ; and if you will be advised by her, she will put 
you upon such a method of doing everything about your house 
as will soon give it a very different appearance." 

" Ay," said Mrs Macclarty, " I aye feared she would be owre 
nice for us. She has been sae lang amang the English, that she 
maun hae a hantel o' outlandish notions. But we are owre auld 
to learn, and we just do weel eneugh." 

Mr Stewart shook his head, and followed his sons, who had by 
this time disengaged the gate from, the post, to which it had 
been attached by an old cord of many knots. 

V/hile Mr Stev/art had been engaging the farmer's wife in 
conversation at the door, his daughter had been earnestly ex- 
horting Mrs Mason to return to Gowan-brae, and to give up all 
thoughts of remaining in a situation in which she could not 
probably enjoy any degree of comfort; but her arguments made 
no impression. Mrs Mason adhered inflexibly to her resolution 
of making a trial of the place; and on Mrs Macclarty's entrance, 
hegged to see the room she was to occupy. 

" That you sail," said Mrs Macclarty ; " but, indeed, it's no 
in sic order as I could wish, for it's cram fou o' woo : it was put 
in there the day of the sheep-shearing, and we have never ta'en 
the fash to put it by ; for, as I said before, we did not expect my 
cuisin till after the fair." She then opened the door that was 
placed in the middle, exactly between the two beds, the recesses 
of which formed the entry of the dark passage, through which 
they groped their way to the spens, or inner apartment, which 
was nearly of the same size as the kitchen. Mrs Mason was 
prepared for seeing the fleeces, which were piled up in the middle 
of the floor, but was struck with dismay at the fusty smell, 



whicli denoted tlie place to be without any circulation of air. 
She immediately advanced to the window, with the intention of 
opening it for relief. But, alas ! it was not made to open ; and 
she heard for her comfort that it was the same with all the other 
windows in the house. The bed; which vv^as opposite to it, was 
shut up on three sides, like those in the kitchen. At the foot 
was a dark closet, in which Mrs Mason^s trunks were already 
placed. Between the window and the fireplace was a large 
chest of drawers, of mahogany ; and on the other side the 
window an eight-day clock in a mahogany case. The backs of 
the chairs were of the same foreign wood, betokening no saving 
of expense ; yet, upon the whole, all had a squalid and gloomy 

Mrs Macclarty tossed down the bed to show the fineness of 
the ticking and the abundance of the blankets, which she took care 
to tell were all of her own spinning. She received the expected 
tribute of applause for her good housewifery, though Mrs Mason 
could not help observing to her what a risk she ran of having it 
all lost for want of air. " See the proof of what I say," said she, 
'•^ in that quantity of moths ! they will soon leave you little to 
boast of your blankets V 

" Moths !" repeated Mrs Macclarty, " there never vv^as sic a 
sight o' moths as in this room; we are just eaten up wi' them ; 
and I'm sure I kenna how they can win in, for no ae breath o' 
wind ever blew here !'' 

"That is just the thing that induces them to breed in this 
place," returned Mrs Mason. " Plenty of air vfould soon rid you 
of the grievance. Since the window is unfortunately fast, I must 
beg to have a fire kindled here as soon as your maid comes from 
the hay-field." 

" A lire !" repeated Mrs Macclarty ; " I thought you had fund 
it owre warm." 

" It is not to increase the heat th^t I ask for a fire," returned 
Mrs Mason, " but to increase the circulation of air. If the 
doors are left open, the air will come sweeping in to feed the 
fire, and the room will by that means be ventilated, which 
it greatly stands in need of. I can at present breathe in it no 

By the help of Miss Mary's arm Mrs Mason got out into the 
open air, and gladly assented to her friend's proposal of taking a 
view of the garden, which lay at the back of the house. On 
going to the wicket by which it entered, they found it broken, 
so that they were obliged to wait , until the stake which propped 
it was removed. Nor was this the only difficulty they had to 
encounter; the path, which was very narrow, was damp, b}^ 
sippings from the dirty pool ; and on each side of it the ground 
immediately rose, and the docks and nettles which covered it con- 
sequently grew so high, that they had no alternative but to walk 
sidev/ays or to separate.. 



" Ye'll see a bonny garden if ye gang* on/' said Mrs Mac- 
clarty ; " my son's unco proud o't." 

" I wonder your son can let these weeds grow liere so rank/' 
said Miss Mary; "I think if he is proud of the garden^ he 
should take some pains to make the entrance to it passable." 

"Oh, it does weel eneugh for us/' returned the contented 
mother. " But saw ye ever sic fine suthernwood, or sic a bed of 
thyme 1 We have twa rose-bushes down yonder too, but w^e 
canna get at them for the nettles. My son gets to them by 
speeling the wa' ; but he would do ony thing for flowers. His 
father's often angry at the time he spends on them." 

" Your husband, then, has not much taste for the garden, I 
suppose ? " said Mrs Mason ; "' and indeed so it appears, for here 
is ground enough to supply a large family with fruit and vege- 
tables all the year round; but I see scarcely anything but 
cabbages and weeds." 

" Na, na, we have some leeks too," said Mrs Macclarty ; " and 
green kail in winter in plenty. We dinna pretend to kick- 
shaws ; green kail's gude eneugh for us." 

" But," said Miss Mary, " any one may pretend to what they 
can produce by their own labour. Were your children to dress 
and weed this garden, there might be a pretty walk ; there you 
might have a plot of green peas, there another of beans ; and 
under your window you might have a nice border of flowers ta 
regale you with their sweet smell. They might do this, too, at 
very little trouble." 

" Ay, but they canna be fashed," said Mrs Macclarty ; " and 
it does just weel eneugh." 

Mr Stewart now appeared, and with him the farmer, who 
saluted Mrs Mason with a hearty welcome, and pressed all the 
party to go in and taste his whisky, to prevent, as he said, the 
tea from doing them any harm. As the car was now ready, Mr 
Stewart begged to be excused from accepting the invitation ; 
and after laying a kind injunction on Mrs Mason to consider no 
place so much her home as Gowan-brae, he set off" with his 
family on their return homewards. 

Mrs Mason, unwilling to give trouble, and anxious not to 
disgust her new acquaintances by the appearance of fastidious- 
ness, gave no further directions concerning her apartment than 
were barely necessary towards putting it in a habitable state. 
This being done, she entered cheerfully into conversation with 
the farmer, whom she found possessed of much plain good sense, 
and a greater stock of information than she could have supposed 
within his reach. She was struck with the force and ration- 
ality of his observations on various subjects, and almost sorry 
when their chat was interrupted by a call to supper, which was 
now upon the table. It consisted, besides the family dishes of 
sowens and milk, of a large trencherful of new potatoes, the 
jfirst of the season, and intended as a treat for the stranger. 



The farmer and his three sons sat down on one side, the good- 
wife and her two daughters on the other, leaving the arm-chair 
at the head for Mrs Mason, and a stool at the foot for Grizzy, 
who sat with her back to the table, only turning round occa- 
sionally to help herself. 

When all were seated, the farmer, taking oif a large blue 
bonnet, which, on account of his bald crown, he seldom parted 
with through the day, and looking round to see that all were 
attentive, invited them to join in the act of devotion which pre- 
ceded every meal, by saying, " Let us ask a blessing." 

Mrs Mason, who had been so long accustomed to consider 
the standing posture as expressive of greater reverence, imme- 
diately stood up, but she was the only one that moved ; all the 
rest of the party keeping their seats, while the farmer, with 
great solemnity, pronounced a short but emphatic prayer. This 
being linislied, Mrs Mason was desired to help herself; and 
such was the impression made by the pious thankfulness which 
breathed in the devotional exercise in which she had just 
engaged, that viands less acceptable to her palate would at that 
moment have been eaten with relish. The sowens were excel- 
lent ; the milk was sweet ; and the fresh-raised potatoes, burst- 
ing from the coats in which they had been boiled, might have 
feasted a queen. It is indeed ten thousand to one that any 
queen ever tasted of the first of vegetables in this its highest 
state of perfection. Mrs Mason was liberal of her praise ; and 
both the farmer and his wife were highly gratified by her ex- 
pressions of satisfaction. 

The meal concluded, as it had begun, with prayer ; and Mrs 
Mason retired to her room under a full conviction that, in the 
society of people who so sincerely served and worshipped God, 
all the materials of happiness would be within her reach. 

Her bed appeared so inviting from the delicate whiteness of 
the linen, that she hastened to enjoy in it the sweets of repose ; 
but no sooner had her head reached the pillow than she became 
sick, and was so overcome by a feeling of suiFocation, that she 
was obliged to sit up for air. Upon examination, she found 
that the smell which annoyed her proceeded from new feathers 
put into the pillow before they had been properly dried, and 
when they were consequently full of the animal oil, which, 
when it becomes rancid, sends forth an intolerable effluvia. 
Having" removed the annoyance, and made of her clothes a 
bundle to support her head, she again composed herself to sleep ; 
but, alas ! in vain ; for the enemy by whom she was now 
attacked she found to be sworn against sleep. The assault was 
made by such numbers in all quarters, and carried on with such 
dexterity by the merciless and agile foe, that, after a few in- 
effectual attempts at offensive and defensive warfare, she at 
length resigned herself to absolute despair. The disgusting^ idea 
of want of cleanliness which their presence excited, was yet 
8 9 


more insniferable tlian the piercing of their little fangs. But 
on recollecting how long the room had been filled with the 
ileeceSj she gladlj flattered herself that they were only acci- 
dental guests, and that she might soon be able to effect their 

As day advanced, the enemy retired; and poor Mrs Mason, 
fatigued and wearied, at length sunk to rest. Happily, she 
was undisturbed by the light ; for though her window, which 
was exactly opposite to the bed, was not shaded by a curtain, 
the veil of dust which it had contracted in the eighteen years 
it had stood unwiped, was too thick to permit the rays of the 
sun to penetrate. 

As the clock struck eight she hastened out of bed, vexed 
at having lost so much of the day in sleep ; and on perceiv- 
ing, when about half-dressed, that she had in her room neither 
water nor hand-basin to wash in, she threw on her dimity 
bed-gown, and went out to the kitchen to procure a supply of 
these necessary articles. She there found Meg and Jean ; the 
former standing at the table, from which the porridge dishes 
seemed to have been just removed ; the latter killing flies at 
the window. Mrs Mason addressed herself to Meg, and, after 
a courteous good-morrow, asked her where she should find a 
hand-basin? "I dinna ken,^' said Meg, drawing her finger 
through the milk that had been spilled upon the table. " Where 
is your mother ? ^' asked Mrs Mason. "I dinna ken," returned 
Meg, continuing to dabble her hands through the remaining 
fragments of the feast. 

" If you are going to clean that table," said Mrs Mason, 
" you will give yourself more work than you need by daubing 
it all over with the porridge. Bring your cloth, and I shall show 
you how I learned to clean our tables when I was a little girl 
like you." 

Meg continued to make lines with her forefinger. 

" Come," said Mrs Mason, " shall I teach you ?" 

" Na," said Meg, " I shall dight nane o't. I'm ga'an to the 
schule." " But that need not hinder you to wipe up the table 
before you go," said Mrs Mason. " You might have cleaned it 
up as bright as a looking-glass in the time that you have spent 
in spattering it and dirtying your fingers. Would it not be 
pleasanter for you to make it clean than to leave it dirty?" 

^^I'll no be at the fash," returned Meg, making off to the 
door as she spoke. Before she got out she was met by her 
mother, who, on seeing her, exclaimed, "Are ye no awa yet, 
bairns ! I never saw the like. Sic a fight to get you to the 
schule! Nae wonner ye learn little v/hen you're at it. Gae 
awa, like good bairns ; for there's nae schulin' the morn, ye 
ken ; it's the fair day." 

Meg set off after some further parley; but Jean continued to 
catch the flies at the window, taking no notice of her mother's 



exhortations; though again repeated in pretty nearly the same 

" Dear me ! " said the mother^ " what^s the matter wi' the 
hairn ! what for winna ye gang when Meg's gane ? Ein, and 
ye'll be after her or she wins to the end o' the loan." 

" I^m no ga'an the day," says Jean, turning away her face. 
^^ And what for are ye no ga'an, my dearT' says her mother. 
" Cause I hinna gotten my questions," replied Jean. 

" Oh, but ye may gang for a' that," said her mother ; " the 
maister will no be angry. Gang, like a gude bairn." 

" Na," said Jean ; " but he will be angry, for I didna get them 
the last time either." 

"And what for didna ye get them, my dear?" said Mrs 
Macclarty in a soothing tone. " Cause 'twas unco kittle, and 
I couldna be fashed," replied the hopeful girl, catching, as she 
spoke, another handful of flies. Her mother, finding that in- 
treaties were of no avail, endeavoured to speak in a more peremp- 
tory accent, and even laid her commands upon her daughter to 
depart immediately : but she had too often permitted her com- 
mands to be disputed, to be surprised at their being now treated 
with disrespect. Jean repeated her determined purpose of not 
going to school that day ; and the firmer she became in opposi- 
tion, the authoritative tone of the mother gradually weakened ; 
till at length, by sayings that " if she didna gang to the schule 
she sudna stand there," she acknowledged herself to be defeated, 
and the point to be given up. 

Mrs Mason, who had stood an unobserved spectator of this 
scene, was truly shocked at such a contempt of parental autho- 
rity as she believed must inevitably produce consequences of 
the most deplorable nature. She came forvv^ard, and stopping 
the little girl as she was slinking out at the door, asked her 
"if she really meant to disobey her mother by staying from 
school?" Jean made no answer; but the indulgent mother, 
unwilling that any one should open her eyes to that to which 
she resolved to be blind, instantly made her spoilt child's 
apology, by observing that " the poor thing hadna gotten 
her questions, and didna like to gang, for fear o' the maister's 

" But ought she not to have got her questions, as her master 
enjoined, instead of idling here all the morning?" said Mr3 
Mason. " ay," returned Mrs Macclarty, " she sud hae gotten 
her questions, nae doubt ; but it was imco fashions, and ye see 
she hasna a turn that gait, poor woman ! but in time she'll do 
weel eneugli." 

" Those who wait till evening for sunrise," said Mrs Mason, 
" will find that they have lost the day. If you permit your 
daughter, while a child, to disobey her parent and her teacher^ 
she will never learn to obey her God. But perhaps I interfere 
too far. If I do, you must forgive me ; for, with the strong 



impression which I have upon my mind of the consequences 
of a rig'ht education, I am tempted to forg-et that my advice 
may sometimes be unacceptable/' 

" Hoot," said Mrs Macclarty, who did not perfectly compre- 
hend the speech, "maidens' bairns are aye weel bred, ye ken, 
cuisin ; but I fear ye hinna sleepit weel, that ye have been sae 
lang' o' rising-. It's a lang" time since the kettle has been boiling- 
for your breakfast." 

" I shall be ready for it very soon," said Mrs Mason ; " but 
I came in search of a basin and water, which Grizzy h^s forg'ot 
to put in my room ; and until I wash, I can proceed no further 
in dressing- myself." 

" Dear me," replied Mrs Macclarty, " I'm sure you're weel 
eneug-h. Your hands hae nae need of washing-, I trow. Ye 
ne'er do a turn to file them." 

" You can't surely be in earnest," replied Mrs Mason. " Do 
you think I could sit down to breakfast with unwashed hands 1 
I never heard of such a thing-, and never saw it done in my 

" I see nae g-ude o' sic nicety," returned her friend ; " but it 
is easy to g-ie ye water eneug-h, thoug-h I'm sure I dinna ken 
what to put it in, unless ye tak ane o' the parridge plates : or 
-maybe the calf's lug-g-ie may do better, for it'll gie you eneugh 
o' room.'^ 

" Your own basin will do better than either," said Mrs Mason : 
" give me the loan of it for this morning, and I shall return it 
immediately, as you must doubtless often want it throug-h the 
day." "Na, na," returned Mrs Macclarty; " I dinna fash wi' 
^ae mony fykes. There's aye water standing in something or 
other for ane to ca' their hands through when they're blacket. 
The gudeman indeed is a wee conceity like yoursel', an' he coffc 
a brown basin for his shaving in on Saturdays, but it's in use 
a' the week haddin' milk, or I'm sure ye'd be welcome to it. I 
shall see an' get it ready for you the morn." 

Poor Mrs Mason, on whose nerves the image presented by 
this description of the alternate uses of the utensil in question 
produced a sensible effect, could scarcely command voice to 
thank her cousin for her civil offer. Being, however, under the 
necessity of choosing for the present, she without hesitation 
preferred the calf's bicker to the porridge plate : and indeed 
considered the calf as being so much the cleanlier animal than 
his mistress, that she would in every way have preferred him 
for an associate. 

Mrs Mason was not ill pleased to find that she was to break- 
fast by herself; the rest of the family having long ago finished 
their morning- repast, were now engaged in the several occu- 
pations of the day. 

The kail-pot was already on the fire to make broth for dinner, 
and Mrs Macclarty busied in preparing the vegetables which 



were to be boiled in it, when her guest, on bearing her desire 
Grizzel to make haste and sit down to her wheel, thought it, 
time to remind her that her bed was still to make, and her 
room to be put in order, and that Grizzy's assistance would be 
necessary for both. 

It was not easy to persuade the good woman that it would 
not be time enough in the dusk of the evening; but as Mrs 
Mason declared it essential to her comfort, Grizzy was ordered 
to attend her, and to do whatever she desired. By her direc- 
tions the stout girl fell to work, and hoisted out the bed and 
bed-clothes, which she carried to the barn-yard, the only place 
about the house where there was a spot of green grass. The 
check curtains followed, and in their removal effected the sudden 
ruin of many a goodly cobweb which had never before met 
with the smallest molestation. When the lower vallance was 
removed, it displayed a scene still more extraordinary ; a hoard 
of the remains of all the old shoes that had ever been worn by 
any member of the family, staves of broken tubs, ends of decayed 
rope, and a long et cetera of useless articles, so covered with 
blue mould and dust, that it seemed surprising the very spiders 
did not quit the colony in disgust. 

Mrs Mason sickened at the sight. Perceiving what an un- 
pleasant task she should be obliged to impose on her assistant, 
she deemed herself in justice bound to recompense her for the 
trouble : and holding up a half-crown piece, told her that if 
she performed all she required of her on the present occasion 
it should be her own. No sooner was Grizzy made certain of 
the reward, which had till now been promised in indefinite 
terms, than she began in such good earnest, that Mrs Mason 
was glad to get out of the room. After three large bucketfuls 
of dirt and trumpery had been carried out, she came to Mrs 
Mason for fresh instructions ; then proceeded to wash the bed- 
posts with soap and water ; after which the chairs, the tables, 
the clock-case, the very walls of the room, as well as everything 
it contained, all underwent a complete cleaning. 

The window, in which were nine tolerably large panes of 
glass, was no sooner rendered transparent, than Grizzy cried 
out in ecstacy, " that she cou'dna have thought it would have 
made sic a change. Dear me 1 how heartsome it looks now to 
what it used ! " said the girl, her spirits rising in proportion to 
the exertion of her activity. 

" And in how short a time has it been cleaned ! " said Mrs 
Mason. " Yet, had it been regularly cleaned once a-week, as 
it ought to have been, it would have cost far less trouble. By 
the labour of a minute or two we may keep it constantly bright ; 
and surely few days pass in which so much time may not be 
spared. Let us now go to the kitchen window, and make it 
likewise clean." Grizzy with alacrity obeyed. But before the 
window could be approached, it was found necessary to remove 



the lieap of dustv articles piled up in tlie window-sill^ which 
.served the purpose of family library and repository of what is 
known by the term odds and ends. 

Mrs Macclarty, who had sat down to spin, did not at first 
seem willing* to take any notice of what was g'oing' forward; 
but on perceiving her maid beginning to meddle with the things 
in the window, she could no longer remain a neutral spectator 
of the scene. Stopping her wheel, she, in a voice indicating the 
reverse of satisfaction, asked what she was about ? Mrs Mason 
took it upon her to reply. " We are going to make your 
window bright and clean for you, cousin,'^ said she. " If you 
step into my room, and take a look of mine, you will see what 
a difference there is in it ; and this, if these broken panes were 
mended, would look every bit as well." '- It does weel eneugh," 
returned Mrs Macclarty ; " it wants nae cleanin' ; it does just 
weel eneugh. What's the gude o' takin' up the lass's time wi' 
nonsense ? she'll break the window too, and the bairns hae broken 
eneugh o' it already." 

" But if these panes were mended, and the window cleaned 
without and within," said Mrs Mason, " yoa cannot think how 
much more cheerful the kitchen would appear." 

" And how lang w^ad it bide clean if it were ?" said Mrs Mac- 
clarty ; " it would be as ill as ever or a month, and wha cou'd be 
at the fash o' aye cleanin' at it ?" 

'^ Even once a-month would keep it tolerable, but once a-week 
would keep it very nice ; your little girls might rub it bright of 
a morning, without the least trouble in the world. They might 
learn, too, to whiten the window-sill, and to keep it free fi-om 
rubbish, by laying the books, and all these articles, in their pro- 
per places, instead of letting them remain here covered with dust. 
You cannot imagine w^iiat good it would do your young people 
did they learn betimes to attend to such matters ; for believe me, 
cousin, habits of neatness, and of activity, and of attention, have 
a greater eifect upon the temper and disposition than most people 
are aware of." 

" If my bairns do as weel as I hae done, they'll do weel 
eneugh," said Mrs Macclarty, turning her wheel with great 
speed. Mr Macclarty's voice was just at that moment heard 
calling on Grizzy to drive the fowls out of the corn-field, which 
necessarily put a stop to all further proceedings against the 
window. Mrs Mason therefore returned to her own apartment ; 
and, greatly pleased with the appearance which it now assumed, 
cheerfully sat down to her accustomed labours of the needle, of 
which she was such complete mistress, that it gave no interrup- 
tion to the train of her reflections. On taking a view of her 
present situation, and comparing it with the past, she carefully 
suppressed every feeling that could lead to discontent. She saw 
that the more nearly people approached each other in their 
habits and opinions, the less would the sacrifice be felt; buu 



wMle slie entertained a liope of being" able to do more g'ood in 
lier present situation tban she could in any other, she resolved 
to remain where she ¥7as. " Surely/^ said she to herself, " I must " 
be of some use to the children of these good people. They are 
ill brought up, but they do not seem deficient in understanding ; 
and if I can once convince them of the advantage they v^ill derive 
from listening to my advice, I may make a lasting impression on 
their minds.*-' 

"HTiile engaged by these reflections as she busily pursued her 
work, she was startled by a sudden noise, followed by an imme- 
diate diminution of light; and on looking up, perceived her 
window bespattered all over with mud. A tittering laugh 
betrayed the aggressors, and directed her attention to the side 
where they stood, and from which she knew they could not 
retreat without being seen. She therefore continued quietly on 
the watch, and in a little time saw Jean and her younger brother 
issue from the spot, and hastily run down the bank that led to 
the river. 

Mrs Mason had been for above twenty years employed in 
studying the tempers and dispositions of children; but as she 
had never before seen an instance of w^hat appeared to be unpro- 
voked malignity in the youthful mind, she was greatly shocked 
at the discovery, and thought it incumbent on her to inform 
their mother of the incident, and to give her opinion of it in the 
plainest terms. 

Mrs Macclarty, perceiving that Mrs Mason had something 
extraordinary to communicate, stopped her wheel to listen ; and 
when the window was mentioned, asked, with great anxiety, 
whether it was broken ? " No," said Mrs Mason ; " the mud 
they threw at it was too soft to break the glass ; it is not to the 
injury done the window that I wish to call your attention, but 
to the dispositions of your children ; for what must the disposi- 
tions be that lead them to take pleasure in such an act ?" 

" Hoot," said Mrs Macclarty, " is that it a'? — ane wou'd hae 
thought the window had been a^ to shivers by the way you spoke. 
If it's but a wee darted, there's na sae muckle ill done. I tauld 
ye it was nonsense to be at sae muckle fash about it, for that it 
wou'dna get leave to bide lang clean." 

^' But if your children were better taught," said Mrs Mason, 
" it might get leave to bide clean long enough. If the same 
activity which they have displayed in dirtying it had been 
directed into proper channels, your cottage might have been 
kept in order by their little hands, and your garden and all 
about your doors made neat and beautiful. Children are 
naturally active ; but unless their activity be early bent to useful 
purposes, it will only lead them into mischief. Were your 
children " 

"Hoot," said Mrs Macclarty peevishly, "my bairns are just 
like other folks'. A' laddies are fou o' mischief, I'm sure there's 



no a yard i' tlie town where tliey can get a flower or apple 
keepit for tliem. I wonder what ye would hae said if ye had 
seen the minister's yetts the day after they were painted 
slaked and blacket a' owre wi' dirt by the laddies frae the 

^^ I would have said/* returned Mrs Mason, " what I said 
before, that all that bent to mischief in the children arises from 
the negiect of the parents in not directing their activity into 
proper channels. Do you not think that each of these boys 
would, if properly trained, find as much amusement in works 
that would tend to ornament the villag'e, or in cultivating' a few 
shrubs and flowers to adorn the walls of their own cottag-es, as 
they now appear to find in mischief and destruction ? Do you 
not think that that girl of yours might have been so brought up 
as to have had more pleasure in cleaning* a window of her father's 
house than in bedaubing it with mud 1 Allowing* the pleasure 
of being mischievously active, and the pleasure of being usefully 
active, to be at present equal, do you think that the consequences 
will not be difl'erent? ^ Train up a child in the way he should 
go,' says Solomon, and depend upon it that in the way you train 
him he will go, whether you desire it or not. If you permit a 
child to derive all his pleasure from doing ill to others, he will 
not, when he is grown up, be inclined to do much good. He 
will even from his youth be conscious of deserving the ill-will of 
his neighbours, and must of course have no good-will to them. 
His temper will thus be soured. If he succeed in life, he will be 
proud and overbearing; if he do not, he will become sulky, and 
morose, and obdurate." 

" Weel," said the farmer, who had been listening to the latter 
part of the conversation, " it's a' true that ye say; but how is it 
to be helpit ? Do you think corrupt nature can be subdued in 
ony other way than by the grace of God?" 

" If I read my Bible right," returned Mrs Mason, " the grace 
of God is a gift which, like all the other gifts of divine love, 
must be sought by the appointed means. It is the duty of a 
parent to put his children upon the way of thus seeking it, and, 
as far as it is in his power, to remove the obstacles that would 
prevent it." 

" The minister himsel' could speak nae better," returned the 
farmer. " But when folks gie their bairns the best education in 
their power, what mair can they do 1 " 

" In answer to your question," replied Mrs Mason, '' I will 
put one to you. Suppose you had a field which produced only 
briers and thorns, what method would you take to bring it into 

" I would nae doubt root out the briers and thorns as weel as 
I could," returned the farmer. 

"And after you had opened the soil by ploughing, and 
enriched it by the proper manure, you would sow good seed in it, 



and expectj by tlie blessing of Heaven, to reap in harvest the 
reward of your labours?" said Mrs Mason. 
- " To be sure I would/' said the farmer. 

^' And do you imagine/^ said Mrs Mason, ^^ that the human 
soul requires less care in culturing" it than is necessary to your 
field ? Is it merely by teaching* them to say their questions, or 
even teaching- them to read, that the briers and thorns of pride 
and self-will will be rooted up from your children's minds ? " 

"" We maun trust a' to the grace of God," said the farmer. 

" God forbid that we should put trust in aug-ht beside," 
returned Mrs Mason ; " but if we hope for a miraculous inter- 
position of divine g-race in favour of ourselves or of our children, 
without taking- the means that God has appointed, our hope does 
not spring' from faith, but from presumption. It is just as if you 
were neither to ploug-h nor sow your fields, and yet expect that 
Providence would bless you with an abundant crop." 

" But what means ought we to use that we do not use?" said 
the farmer. " We send our bairns to the schule, and we tak 
them to the kirk, and we do our best to set them a good example. 
I kenna what we could do mair." 

''' You are a good man," said Mrs Mason with complacency ; 
"and happy will it be for your children if they follow your 
example. But let us drop all allusion to them in particular, 
and speak .only of training up youth to virtue as a general 
principle. By what you say, you think it sufficient to sow the 
seed ; I contend for the necessity of preparing the soil to receive 
it; and say that, without such preparation, it will never take 
root nor vegetate." 

" I canna contradict you," returned the farmer ; " but I wish 
you to explain it better. If you mean that we ought to gie our 
bairns lessons at hame, I can tell you we hae nae time for it, nor 
are we book-learned eneugh to make fine speeches to them, as 
the like of you might do ; and if we were, I fear it wad do little 

" Believe me," replied Mrs Mason, " set lessons and fine 
harangues make no part of my plan of preparation, which 
consists of nothing else than a watchful attention to the first 
appearances of what is in its nature evil, and, whether it comes 
in the shape of self-will, passion, or perverseness, nipping it in 
the very bud ; while, on the other hand, I would tenderly cherish 
every kindly affection, and enforce attention to the feelings of 
others : by which means I would render children kind-hearted, 
tractable, and obedient. This is what I call the preparation of 
the soil : now, let us see the consequences. Supposing that, of 
two children, one has from infancy been accustomed to constant 
and cheerful obedience, while the other has never been taught to 
respect any will but his own ; which of those two, on being* 
instructed in the divine precept, ^honour thy father and thy 
mother/ will be most likely to enter into the spirit of the com- 



mandment? And wliat dotli tlie g"ospel teacli? Doth, it not 
urge us to subdue all selfish and vindictive passions, in order that 
we may cherish the most perfect love to God and man ? Now, if 
we have permitted our children to indulge these passions, how do 
v/e prepare them for practising the gospel precepts 1 Their duty 
to God and man requires that they should make the best use of 
every power of mind and body : the activity natural to youth is 
a power included in this rule ; and if we permit them to waste it 
in effecting mischief, and in destroying or disturbing the happi- 
ness of others, can we say that we are not counteracting the 
express will of our divine Master ? How can we flatter ourselves 
that, with such habits, the divine precepts will make much im- 
pression on their minds ? " 

Before Mrs Mason had finished her speech, her voice v/as 
drowned in the noise of a violent quarrel that had taken place 
between the farmer's two elder sons. Perceiving that the dispute 
would not be easily settled, she retired to her room, but was 
overtaken in the passage by Mrs Macclarty, who said in a 
whisper, "I hope ye'll say naething o' Jenny's playing the truant 
frae the schule. Her father mauna ken o't, he wad be sae 
angry." "Alas !" said Mrs Mason, "you know not how much 
you are your child's enemy ; but I shall be silent." 

Mrs Mason enjoyed the reward of her exertions, and of 
Grizzel's labour, in a night of sweet and uninterrupted repose. 
She was awakened at early dawn by the farmer calling his sons 
to get up to prepare for the labours of the day ; and looking up, 
beheld the clouds already decked in the colours of the mornings, 
inviting her to the most glorious sight on which the eye of man 
can look. The invitation was not given in vain. She rose and 
dressed herself, and taking her staff and crutch, sallied from 
her room, earnestly wishing to escape observation. 

From the length of time that the outer door had been shut, the 
closeness of the house had become very unpleasant to her lungs. 
Welcome, therefore, was the reviving breeze of morning ; wel- 
come the freshness of the coming day, which now burst upon 
her senses. It was not, indeed, until she had removed some paces 
from the house that she fully felt its influence ; for while near 
the door, the smell of the squashy pool, and its neighbour the 
dunghill, was so powerful, as to subdue the fragrance of earth's 
fruits and flowers. 

Having taken the road towards the river, she, on its first 
turning, found herself in full view of the waterfall, and was 
arrested by admiration at the many beauties of the scene. 
Seating herself upon a projecting rock, she contemplated the 
effulgent glory of the heavens as they brightened into splendour 
at the approach of the lord of day ; and when her eyes were 
dazzled by the scene, turned to view the living waters pouring 
their crystal flood over the craggy precipice, shaded by the 
spreading boughs of birch and alder. 



While indulging in tlie grateful feelings of her hearty by 
sending up her tribute of praise to the Almighty Giver of all 
good, her ears were suddenly assailed by the harsh sound of 
discord ; and on moving a few steps, she discovered that a violent 
dispute had taken place between the farmer and his eldest son. 
In the hope of making peace, she advanced towards them ; but 
before she turned the corner she paused, doubting whether it 
were not better to take no notice of having heard the fray. 
The voices ceased, and proceeding, she saw the farmer hastily 
unsaddling a horse, and the son at the same moment issuing 
from the door, but pulled back by his mother, who held the skirt 
of his coat, saying, " I tell ye, Sandy, ye mauna gang to anger 
your father." 

" But I sail gang," cried Sandy in a sullen tone ; " I winna 
be hindered. I sail gang, I tell ye, whether my father likes or 

" Ye may gang, ye doure loon," says the father ; " but if ye 
do, ye sail repent it as lang as ye live." 

" Hoot na," returned the mother, " ye'll forgie him ; and 
ye had as weel let him gang, for ye see he winna be hin- 
dered!" ^ ^ " 

" Where is the young man for going to?" asked Mrs Mason. 

"Where sud he be for gain' to but to the fair?" returned the 
mother ; " it's only natural. But our gudeman's imco particular, 
and never lets the lads get ony daffin."" 

" Baffin ! " cried the farmer ; " is druckenness daffin ? Didna 
he gang last year, and come hame as drunk as a beast ! And ye 
wad hae him tak the brown mare too, without ever speering mj 
leave ! saddled and bridled too, forsooth, like ony gentleman in 
the land! But ye sail baith repent it: I tell ye ye'se baith 
repent it." 

Mrs Mason endeavoured to dissuade the young man from 
going to the fair, but in vain ; and he was left to pursue his own 
wilful course. 

" Mistress ! " hallooed the voice of Grizzel from the house, " I 
wish ye wad come and speak to Meg. She winna be hindered 
putting her fingers in the kirn, and licking the cream." 

" If I were at you," cried Mrs Macclarty, " I'd gar you " 

She was as good as her word; and in order to show Mrs 
Mason the good effect of her advice, she ran that moment into 
the kitchen, and gave her daughter a hearty slap upon the back. 
The girl went a few steps farther off, and deliberately applied 
her tongue to the back of her hand, where part of the cream was 
still visible. 

" Go ! ye idle whippy ! " said her mother, " and let me see how 
weel ye'll ca' the kirn." 

" I winna kirn the day," returned Meg ; " I'm gaun to milk 
the kye. Jean may kirn ; she has naething else to do." 

" I'm aye set to kirn," says Jean whimpering. " I never saw 



sic wark. I tell ye I winna kirn mair than Meg. Grizzj can 
milk the cows hersel'. She doesna want her help." 

" But, girls/*^ said Mrs Mason, " when I was a little girl like 
either of you, I never thought of choosing my work ; I con- 
sidered it my business to follow my mother's directions. Young 
people ought to obey, and not to dictate.'^ 

^' Hear ye that ?" said Mrs Macclarty. " But Jean will gang 
to the kirn, I ken, like a good bairn ; and she sail get a dad o' 
butter to her bread." 

" But I winna hae't frae the hairing knife," said Jean, " for 
the last I got stack i' my throat." 

" Bless me !" cried Mrs Mason in amazement, ^^how does your 
butter come to be so full of hairs ? where do they come from ? " 

" Oh, they are a' frae the cows," returned Mrs Macclarty. 
" There has been lang a hole in the milk sythe, and I have never 
been at the fash to get it mended ; but as I tak aye care to sythe 
the milk through my fingers, I wonder how sae mony hairs 
win in." 

" Ye needna wonder at that," observed Grizzel, " for the house 
canna be soopit but the dirt flees into the kirn." 

'^ But do you not clean the churn before you put in the 
cream ?" asked Mrs Mason, more and more astonished. 

" Na, na," returned Mrs Macclarty, " that wadna be canny, 
ye ken. Naebody hereabouts would clean their kirn for ony 
consideration. I never heard o' sic a thing i' my life." 

Mrs Mason found it difficult to conceal the disgust which this 
discovery excited ; but resolving to be cautious of giving oftence 
by the disclosure of her sentiments, she sat down in silence, to 
watch the further operations of the morning. While Jean was 
slowly turning the churn with unwilling hand, her mother was 
busily employed in making the cheese. Part of the milk des- 
tined to that purpose was already put upon the fire in the same 
iron pot in which the chickens had been feasting, and on which 
the hardened curd at which they had been picking was still 
visible towards the rim. The remainder of the milk was turned 
into a large tub, and to it that upon the fire was added as soon 
as it was of a proper heat. So far all was done well and 
cleverly. Mrs Macclarty then took down a bottle of runnet, or 
yearning, as she called it ; and having poured in what she 
thought a sufficient quantity, tucked up the sleeve of her gown, 
and dashing in her arm, stirred the infusion with equal care 
and speed. 

^' I believe, cousin," said Mrs Mason hesitatingly, " I believe 
— you forgot to wash your hands." 

" Hoot !" returned the goodwife, " my hands do weel eneugh. 
I canna be fashed to clean them at ilka turn." 

" But you go about your work with such activity," rejoined 
Mrs Mason, '^ that I should think it would give you little 
trouble, if you were once accustomed to it : and by all that I 



have observed, and I have had many opportunities of observation, 
I believe that, in the management of a dairy, cleanliness is the 
first, the last, the one art needful.*' 

" Cleanly V repeated Mrs Macclarty ; ^^ nae ane ever said 
that I wasna cleanly. There's no a mair cleanly person i' the 
parish. Cleanly indeed! ane wad think ye was speaking* to a 
bairn !" 

Mrs Mason offered a few words in explanation, and then 
retired to her own apartment, to which she saw it would be 
necessary to confine herself, in order to enjoy any tolerable 
degree of comfort. She therefore began to consider how it 
might be rendered more airy and commodious ; and after 
dinner, observing that the farmer's mind still brooded on his 
son's behaviour, she g'ladly introduced the subject of her pro- 
jected alterations, hoping thus to divert his thoughts into another 
channel. The first thing she proposed was to have hinges for 
the frame of the window, that it might open and shut at plea- 
sure. To this the farmer said he should have no objection, only 
that " he kenned it wad soon be broken to pieces blawing wi' 
the wund." 

" Oh, but you mistake me," said Mrs Mason. " I intend that 
it should be fastened, when open, with an iron hook, as they con- 
stantly . fasten the cottage windows in England." 

"And wha do ye think wad put in the cleek?" returned he. 
" Is there ane, think ye, about this house that wad be at sic a 

" Why, what trouble is there in it ?" said Mrs Mason. " It is 
only teaching your children to pay a little attention to such 
things, and they will soon come to find no trouble in them. 
They cannot too soon learn to be neat and reg^ular in their ways." 

" Ilka place has just its ain gait," said the goodwife, " and ye 
needna think that we'll ever learn yours. And indeed, to be 
plain wi' you, cuisin, I think you have owre mony fykes. There, 
didna ye keep Grizzy for mair than twa hours yesterday morning 
soopin' and dustin' your room in every corner, and cleaning out 
the twa bits o' buird, that are for naething but to set your feet 
on after a'?" 

" But did you know how dirty they were ? " said Mrs Mason. 

" Hoot ! the chickens just got their meat on them for twa or 
three weeks, puir wee beasties ! The buirds were a wee thought 
darted wi' parritch, but it was weel dried on, and ye wadna been 
a bit the waur." 

" But are the boards the worse for being scoured ? " asked Mrs 
Mason ; " or would they have been the worse if they had been 
scoured when you took them from the chickens, or while they 
were feedins;- on them ? " 

" Oh, to be sure it wad hae been an easy matter to hae scour't 
them then, if we had thought of being at the fash," returned 
Mrs Macclarty. 



^•In my opinion/' rejoined Mrs Mason, "this fear of leing 
fashed is the great bar to ail improvement. I have seen this 
morning that you are not afraid of . work, for you have exerted 
yourself with a degree of activity that no one could excel ; yet 
you dread the small additional trouble that would make your 
house cheerful, clean, and comfortable. You dread the trouble of 
attention more than the labour of your hands ; and thus, if I 
mistake not, you often bring upon yourself trouble which timely 
attention would have spared. Would it not be well to have your 
children taught such habits of attention and regularity as would 
make you more easy, and them more useful, both to themselves 
and you ? " 

"As for my bairns," returned Mrs Macclarty, "if they 
pleasure me, they do weel eneugh." 

" There's a great spice o' good sense in what Mrs Mason has 
said though,'' said the farmer ; " but it's no easy for folk like us 
to be put out o' their ain gait." 

In truth, Mrs Macclarty was one of those seemingly good- 
natured people who are never to be put out of their own way, 
for she was obstinate to a degree ; and so perfectly self-satisfied, 
that she could not bear to think it possible that she might in 
anything do better than she did. Thus, though she would not 
argue in favour of sloth or dirt in general, she nevertheless con- 
tinued to be slothful and dirty, because she vindicated herself in 
every particular instance of either ; and though she did not wish 
that her children should be idle, obstreperous, disobedient, and 
self-willed, she effectually formed them to those habits, and then 
took credit to herself for being one of the best of mothers ! 

Mrs Mason had discernment enough to see how much pride 
there was in that pretended contentment which constantly re- 
pelled every idea of improvement. She saw that though Mrs 
Macclarty took no pains to teach her children what was truly 
useful, she encouraged, with respect to them, an undefined senti- 
ment of ambition, which persuaded her that her children were 
born to rise to something great, and that they would in time 
overtop their neighbours. Mrs Mason saw the unhappy effects 
which this would infallibly produce upon minds brought up in 
ignorance. She therefore resolved to do all in her power to 
obviate the consequences ; and from the opinion she had formed 
of the farmer's sense and principles, had no doubt of his co- 
operating' with her in the work of reformation. 

While musing on this subject as she sat by her window in the 
twilight, she saw the two younger lads run hastily past, and 
soon heard from their mother such an exclamation of sorrow, as 
convinced her they had been the messengers of bad news. She 
therefore speedily proceeded luttj and there she found the poor 
woman wringing her hands, and lamenting herself bitterly. 
Tho farmer entered at the same moment, and on seeing 
him she redoubled her lamentations, still calling* out, " Oh, 



Sandy ! Sandy ! oh tliat I should hae lived to see this day ! Oh, 
Sandy! Sandy!" 

The intelligence was shortly made known that Sandy had 
enlisted as a soldier at the fair ; which produced a general feeling 
of distress in the household, and a forgetfulness of ordinary 
duties. Evening was now far advanced. The cows, which the 
hoys should have brought home to have milked, were still lowing 
in the West Croft ; and when Mrs Macclarty desired Robert to 
go for them, she obtained no other answer than that " Grizzy 
might gang as weel as him." Grizzy was busy in washing up 
the dishes wanted for supper, and which had remained unwashed 
from breakfast-time till now : they had been left to the care of 
Meg, who had neglected them, and by this neglect made the 
task more difficult to Grizzy, who was therefore in very bad 
humour, and began loudly to complain of Meg and Rob, who in 
their turns raised their voices in defence and mutual accusation. 
The din of the squabble became insufferable. Mrs Mason retired 
from it with horror, and shut herself up in her room, where she 
meditated with deep regret on the folly of those who, having 
been placed by Almighty God in situations most favourable to 
the enjoyment of peace and the exercise of virtue, are insensible 
to the blessings, and, by permitting their passions to reign without 
control, destroy at once both peace and virtue. 

The distress felt by honest John Macclarty for the loss of his 
son induced him to attempt his recovery, and he accordingly set 
out for the town in which he had enlisted. This was an unfor- 
tunate journey. The farmer was knocked down and robbed, and 
was brought home in a state of great pain and danger. A fever 
ensued, which, not being checked in time by proper medical 
attendance, gained head, and could not afterwards be subdued. 
He died amid his mourning though ill-instructed family, but 
not before his wife and second.son were taken ill. 

After the solemnities of the funeral, Mrs Mason was called to 
witness the reading of the farmer's will. He had performed the 
duty of an honest man in making it while he was in perfect 
health ; wisely thinking that, if he deferred it till the hour of 
sickness, he might then neither have the ability nor inclination 
to give his mind to worldly cares. 

To his wife he bequeathed a free cottage in the village, and an 
annuity which he considered equal to her wants. To each of 
his younger children he left the sum of forty pounds, and to his 
eldest son the farm, burdened with the above provision for the 
rest of the family. In case the elder son should choose to go 
abroad, or enter into business, the farm was to go to the second^ 
and the elder to have only a younger child's portion. By a 
clause in the will, the widow was to retain possession of the farm 
till the Candlemas after her husband's death ; so much more 
consideration had this humble cottager for the feelings of a wife, 
than is often shown in the settlements of the rich and great ! 



The minister, who read the will, addressed himself, in finishing" 
it, to the friends and neighbours who were present, and proposed 
that they should alternately lend their assistance in managing* 
the business of the harvest for the widow and her family. The 
jjroposal was readily agreed to by the men ; while Mrs Mason, 
on her part, cheerfully undertook the superintendence of the 
household work and dairy, until her cousin should be so far 
recovered as to be able to resume her task. 

As soon as all the strangers were dismissed, Mrs Mason in- 
formed her cousin of the arrangements that had been made, with 
which she appeared perfectly satisfied. Depressed by grief and 
sickness, she still considered her recovery as hopeless, and sub- 
mitted to her fate with that species of quiescence which is often 
a substitute for the true spirit of resignation. 

Every moment of Mrs Mason^s time was now fully occupied ; 
and the business of the family had never been so well conducted 
as since its mistress had been incapacitated from attending to 
it. By the effects of forethought, order, and regularity, the 
labour was so much diminished to the servant, that she willingly 
resigned herself to Mrs Mason's directions, and entered into all 
her plans. The girls, though at first refractory, and often 
inclined to rebel, were gradually brought to order ; and finding 
that they had no one to make excuses for their disobedience^ 
quietly performed their allotted tasks. They began to taste 
the pleasure of praise, and, encouraged by approbation, en- 
deavoured to deserve it; so that, though their tempers had 
been too far spoiled to be brought at once into subjection, Mrs 
Mason hoped that, by steadiness, she should succeed in reform- 
ing them. 

Mrs Macclarty, who was not so changed by sickness, or so 
absorbed in grief, as to be indifferent to the world and its con- 
cerns, fretted at the length of ,her confinement, which was 
rendered doubly grievous to her from the hints she occasionally 
received of the new methods of management introduced by Mrs 
Mason, which she could on no account believe equal to her own. 
Her friend and benefactress became the object of her jealousy 
and aversion. The neighbours, with whom she had cultivated 
the greatest intimacy, encouraged this dislike ; and on all their 
visits of condolence, expressed in feeling terms their sense of 
the sad change that had taken place in the appearance of the 
house, which, they said, was " now sae unco, they wad scarcely 
ken it for the same place." 

" Ay ! " exclaimed the wife of auld John Smith, who happened 
to visit the widow the first evening' she was able to sit up to tea 
• — " ay, alake ! it's weel seen that whar there's new lairds there's 
new laws. But how can your woman and your bairns put up 
wi' a' this fashery ? " 

'^ I kenna, truly," replied the widow ; " but Mrs Mason has 
just sic a way wd' them, she gars them do ony thing she likes. 



Ye may think it's an eery thing" to me to see my poor bairns 
submitting that way to pleasure a strang-er in a' her nonsense.'' 

" An eery thing indeed ! '' said Mrs Smith : " gif ye had but 
seen how she gard your dochter Meg clean out the kirn ! outside 
and inside ! ye wad hae been wae for the poor lassie. ^ I trow/ 
said I, ' Meg, it wad hae been lang before your mither had set 
you to sic a twimJ ^ Ay/ says she, ^ we hae new gaits now / and 
she lookit up and leugh." 

" New gaits, I trow ! " cried Sandy Johnston's mother, who 
had just taken her place at the tea-table ; " I ne'er kenned gude 
come o' new gaits a' my days. There was Tibby Bell, at the 
head o' the Glen, she fell to cleaning her kirn ae day, and the 
very first kirning after her butter w^as burstet, and gude for 
naething. I'm sure it gangs to my heart to see your wark sae 
managed. It was but the day before yesterday that I cam upon 
Madam as she was haddin' the strainer, as she called it, to 
Grizzy, desiring her a' the time she poured the milk to beware 
of letting in ane o' the cow's hairs that were on her goon. 
^ Hoot !' says I, ' cow's hairs are canny ; they'll never choke ye.' 
^ The fewer of them that are in the butter the better,' says she. 
^ Twa or three hairs are better than the blink o' an ill ee,' says I. 
^ The best charm against witchcraft is cleanliness/ says she. ' I 
doubt it muckle/ says I ; ^ auld w^ays are aye the best ! ' " 

" Weel done ! " cried Mrs Smith ; " I trow ye gae her a screed 
o' your mind ! But here comes Grizzy frae the market ; let us 
hear what she says to it." 

Grizzel advanced to her mistress, and with alacrity poured 
into her lap the money she had got for her cheese and butter ; 
proudly at the same time observing that it was more by some 
shillings than they had ever got for the produce of one week 
before that lucky day. 

"What say you?" cried the wife of auld John Smith ; "are 
the markets sae muckle risen ? That's gude news indeed." 

" I didna say that the markets were risen," returned the 
maid ; " but we never got sae muckle for our butter nor our 
cheese, by a penny i' the pund weight, as I got the day. A' the 
best folks in the town were striving for it. I could hae sold 
twice as muckle at the same price." 

" Ye had need to be weel paid for it," said Sandy Johnston's 
mother, '- for I fear ye had but sma' quantity to sell." 

" We never had sae muckle in ae week before," said Grizzy ; 
" for you see," continued she, " the milk used aye to sour before 
it had stood half its time ; but noo the milk dishes are a' sae 
clean, that it keeps sweet to the last." 

" And dinna ye think muckle o' the fash ?" said Mrs Smith. 

" I thought muckle o't at first," returned Grizzy ; " but when 
I got into the way o't, I fand it nae trouble at a'." 

" But how do ye find time to get through sae muckle wark f ^ 
said the widow Johnston. 



^^ I ii&veY,''^ answered Grizzy, " got tliroiigli my wark sae easy 
in my life ; for ye see Mrs Mason has just a set time for iika 
turn ; so that folk are never rinnin' in ane anither's gait ; and 
everything is set by clean^ ye see, so that it's just ready for use." 

" She maun hae an unco airt," said Mrs Macclarty, " to gar 
ye do sae muckle, and think sae little o't. I'm sure ye ken hovv^ 
you used to grumble at being put to do far less. But I didna 
bribe ye wi' half-croon pieces as she does." 

" It's no the half-croon she gae me that gars me speak," cried 
Grizzy ; " but I sail alv/ays say that she is a most discreet and 
civil person, ay, and ane that taks a pleasure in doing gude. I 
am sure, mistress, she has done mair gude to you than ye can 
e'er repay, gif ye were to live this hunder year." 

" I sail ne'er say that she hasna been very kind," returned 
Mrs Macclarty ; " but, thank the Lord, a' body has shown kind- 
ness as weel as her. It's no lessenin' o' her to say that we hae 
other freends forby." 

" Freends I " repeated Grizzy ; " what hae a' your freends 
done for you in comparison wi' what she has done, and is e'now 
doing for you? Ay, just e'now, while I am speaking. But I 
forget that she charged me no to tell." 

Grizzy, however, was led to explain that Sandy having de- 
serted, was doomed to be shot, and that Mrs Mason, who was 
acquainted with his commanding officer, had gone to procure, if 
possible, a remission of his sentence. 

The suspense in which poor Mrs Macclarty was now involved 
with respect to her son's destiny appeared more insupportable 
than the most dreadful certainty. The stream of consolation 
that was poured upon her by her loquacious friends only seemed 
to add to her distress. She made no answer to their observa- 
tions, but, with her eyes eagerly bent towards the door, she 
fearfully listened to the sound of every passing footstep. At 
length the approach of horses was distinctly heard. Her maid 
hastily ran to the door for intelligence; and the old women, 
whose curiosity was no less eager, as hastily followed. The poor 
mother's heart grew faint. Her head drooped upon her hands, 
and a sort of stupor came over her senses. She sat motionless 
and silent ; nor did the entrance of the minister and Mrs Mason 
seem to be observed. Mrs Mason, who at a glance perceived 
that the sickness was the sickness of the mind, kindly took her 
hand, and bade her be of good cheer, for that, if she would 
recover, all her family would do well. 

"Is he to live?" said Mrs Macclarty in a low and hollow 
voice, fixing her eyes on Mrs Mason's, as if expecting to read in 
them the doom of her son. 

" Give thanks to, God," returned the minister, who had accom- 
panied Mrs Mason ; " your son lives ; God and his judges have 
dealt mercifully with him and you." 

On hearing these blessed words, the poor agitated mother 



grasped Mrs Mason's handsj and burst into a flood of tears. 
The spectators were little less affected : a considerable time 
elapsed before tlie silence that ensued yas broken. At leng-th, in 
faltering accents, the widow asked whether she might hope to 
see her son again? It was explained to her that this was 
impossible, and that the farm must be conducted bj Eobert, her 
second son. 

This arrangement was no improvement, as it soon appeared, on 
a former state of affairs. The young farmer, unrestrained by his 
mother, behaved so rudely to Mrs Mason, that she resolved to 
seek a lodging elsev/here. Disappointed in finding a home in 
the house of her kinswoman, she now applied to William 
Morison and his wife, who lived in the village, to be taken as a 
lodger. They v/ere poor, and therefore the small sum she 
■ could afford to pay might to them be particularly useful. They 
were humble, and therefore would not refuse to be instructed in 
matters which they had never before had any opportunity to 
learn. She might, then, do good to them and to their children ; 
and where she could do most good, there did Mrs Mason think 
it would be most for her happiness to go. 

No sooner did she give a hint of her intention to Morison and 
his wife, than she perceived, from their brightened looks, that 
she had judged truly in imagining that her offer would be 
received with joy. These poor people had been sorely visited by 
affliction ; but their good principles and good sense had taught 
them to make a proper use of the visitation, in checking the 
spirit of pride and presumption. Their resignation to the will of 
God was cheerful and unfeigned, and therefore led to redoubled 
efforts of industry ; but their exertions had not as yet effectually 
relieved them from the extreme poverty to which they had been 
reduced. After gratefully acknowledging their sense of Mrs 
Mason's kindness in giving their house a preference, and 
declaring how much they deemed themselves honoured by 
having her beneath their roof, they looked at each other and 
paused, as if struck by the sudden recollection of some invincible 
obstacle. Mrs Mason perceived their embarrassment, and asked 
the cause. 

There v/as a deficiency of furniture ; but Mrs Mason obviated 
every difficulty by saying that she meant to furnish her own 
apartment; and after a little further conversation, in which 
€verything was arranged to mutual satisfaction, she set out on 
her return to the farm, animated by the delightful hope of 
having it in her power to dispense a degree of happiness to her 

After a visit of a few months to her friends at Gowan-brae, 
Mrs^ Mason returned to Glenburnie. When she arrived at 
Morison's cottage, she was received with a cordial welcome, to 
the comforts of '^ a blazing ingle and a clean hearth-stane." On 
her own apartment, she was delighted to find that 



everything' was arrang-ed to her wish, and far heyond he? 
expectations ; nor could she persuade herself that her room had 
not underg-one some very material and expensive alteration. 
This striking" improvement was, however, merely the result of a 
little labour and attention ; but so great was the effect thus 
produced, that though the furniture was not nearly so costly as 
the furniture of her room at Mrs Macclarty's, it appeared in all 
respects superior. 

Mrs Morison was hig-hly g-ratiiied by the approbation bestowed 
upon her labours ; and, pointing* to her two little girls, told Mrs 
Mason how much they had done to forward the work, and that 
they were proud to find her pleased with it. Mrs Mason thanked 
them, and presented each with a ribbon, as an encouragement for 
good behaviour, assuring them at the same time that they 
would through life find happiness the reward of usefulness.' 
" Alas ! " said Mrs Morison, " they must be obliged to work : puir 
things, they have naething else to depend upon.'' 

" And on what can they depend so well as on their own 
exertions?" replied Mrs Mason: "let them learn to excel in 
what they do, and look to the blessing of God upon their labours, 
and they may then pity the idle and the useless." 

" If you could but get my poor gudeman to think in that 
way," said Peggy, " your coming to us would indeed be a bless- 
ing to our family." 

" Fear not," said Mrs Mason ; " as his health amends, his 
spirits will return, and in the good providence of God he will 
find some useful opening for his industry. Who ever saw the 
righteous man forsaken, or the righteous man's children either, 
so long as they walked in their father's steps ? Bat now I must 
give some directions to my two little handmaids, whose attend- 
ance I shall take week about. I see they are willing, and they 
will soon be able to do all that I require." 

"I'll answer for their being willing," cried their mother, 
looking fondly at the girls ; " but ye winna tak it ill if they 
shouldna just fa' at ance into your ways." 

" If they are willing," said Mrs Mason, " they will soon learn 
to do everything" in the best wa,y possible. All I want of them 
is to save themselves trouble, by getting into the habit of mind- 
ing what they have to do. Any one who is willing may soon 
become a useful servant by attending to three simple rules." 
"'To three rules?" cried Peggy, interrupting her; "that's odd, 
indeed. But my gudeman maun hear this. Come, William, and 
hear Mrs Mason tell our lassies a' the duties of a servant." 

" I fear the kail will be cauld before she gets through them 
all," said William, smiling ; " but I am i^eady to listen to her 
though it should." 

" Your patience won't be long tried," said Mrs Mason ; " for I 
have already told your girls, that in order to make good servants^ 
they have only to attend to three simple rules." 

;m:rs macclarty. 

'^ Well, what are they ? " said the husband and wife, speaking* 
both at once. 

" They are," returned Mrs Mason, " to do everything in 


" Well said ! " cried William ; " and as I live, these same rules 
would mak a weel-ordered house. My lassies shall get them 
by heart, and repeat them ilka morning after they say their 

William kept his word; and Mrs Mason, finding that she 
would be supported by the parents, did not despair of being 
truly useful to the children, by conveying to them the fruits of 
her experience. Mrs Morison was a neat orderly person, and 
liked to see her house and children what she called toeel redd up ; 
but her notions of what was necessary to comfort fell far short 
of Mrs Mason's ; neither had she been accustomed to that 
thorough-going cleanliness which is rather the fruit of habitual 
attention than of periodical labour, and which, like the pure 
religion that permits not the accumulation of unrepented sins 
upon the conscience, makes holiday of every day in the week. 
Mrs Morison was a stranger to the pride which scorns instruc- 
tion. She did not refuse to adopt methods that were better 
than her own, merely because they were new ; nor, though she 
loved her children as fondly and as dearly as any mother in the 
world, did she ever defend their faults. But as her children 
were early inspired with a desire to please, they did not often 
stand in need of correction, and stood more in awe of their 
father's frown than those who have been nurtured in self-will 
stand in awe of the most severe beating. 

Mrs Mason had not been many weeks a resident in the family, 
till the peculiar neatness of William's cottage attracted the notice 
of the neighbours. The proud sneered at what they called the 
pride of the M orisons ; the idle wondered how folk could find 
time for sic useless wark ; and the lazy, while they acknow- 
ledged that they would like to live in the same comfort, drew 
in their chairs to the fire, and said they couldiia he fashed. 

By the interest of Mrs Mason, William Morison was appointed 
schoolmaster in the village, a situation for which he was well 
fitted, and Mrs Mason took upon herself the duty of school- 
mistress to the girls. The benefit of the improved instruction 
now given to the children was soon perceptible, and praised by 
ever}rbody but poor Mrs Macclarty. When she observed the 
thriving appearance of the Morisons, and how fast they were 
rising into notice and respect, her heart was torn between envy 
and regret. Far was she, however, from imputing to herself 
any blame ; she, on the contrary, believed all the blame to rest 
with Mrs Mason, who was so unnatural as to leave her own 
relations, '• and to tak up wi' strangers, w^ho were neither kith 
nor kin to her;" nor did she omit "any opportunity of railing 



at the pride of the schoolmasters wife and daughters, who, she 
said, " were now sae saucy, as to pretend that they couldna sit 
down in comfort in a hoose that wasna clean soopit.'' She for 
a time found many among the neighbours who readily acquiesced 
in her opinions, and joined in her expression of contempt ; but 
by degrees the strength of her party visibly declined. Those 
who had their children at school were so sensible of the rapid 
improvement that had been made in their tempers and manners^ 
as well as in their learning, that they could not help feeling- 
some gratitude to their instructors; and Mrs Mason, having 
instructed the girls in needlework, without any additional charge, 
added considerably to their sense of obligation. Even the old 
women, who, during the first summer, had most bitterly ex- 
claimed against the pride of innovation, were by mid-v/inter 
inclined to alter their tone. How far the flannel waistcoats and 
petticoats distributed among them contributed to this change 
of sentiment, cannot be positively ascertained ; but certain it is, 
that as the people were coming from church the first fine day 
of the following spring', all stopped a few moments before the 
school-house, to inhale the fragrance of the sweetbrier, and to 
admire the beauty of the crocuses, primroses, and violets which 
embroidered the borders of the grass-plot. Mrs Macclarty, who, 
in great disdain, asked auld John Smith's wife " what a' the 
folks were glowering at," received for answer that they were 
" looking at the bonniest sight in the town," pointing at the same 
time to the spot. 

" Eh ! " returned Mrs Macclarty, " I wonder what the warld 
will come to at last, since naething can serve the pride o' William 
Morison but to hae a flower garden whar gude Mr Brown's 
midden-stead stood sappy for mony a day ! He's a better man 
than will ever stand on William Morison's shanks." 

^^ The flowers are a hantel bonnier than the midden though^ 
and smell a hantel sweeter too, I trow," returned Mrs Smith. 

This striking indication of a change of sentiment in the most 
sturdy stickler for the gude auld gaits, foreboded the improve- 
ments that were speedily to take place in the village of Glen- 
burnie. These had their origin in the spirit of emulation 
excited among the elder schoolboys for the external appearance 
of their respective homes. The girls exerted themselves with 
no less activity to effect a reformation within doors ; and so 
successful were they in their respective operations, that by the 
time the Earl of Longlands came to take possession of Hill 
Castle, when he, accompanied by his two sisters, came to visit 
Mrs Mason at Glenburnie, the village presented such a picture 
of neatness and comfort, as excelled all that in the course of 
their travels they had seen. The carts which used formerly to 
be stuck up on end before every door, were now placed in 
wattled sheds attached to the gable-end of the dwelling, and 
which were rendered ornamental from their coverings of honey- 


suckle or ivy. Tlie "bright and clear glass of the windows was 
seen to advantage peeping through the foliage of the rose trees 
and other flowering shrubs that were trimly nailed against the 

. walls. The gardens on the other side were kept with equal care. 
There the pot-herb flourished. There the goodly rovv^s of bee- 
hives evinced the effects of the additional nourishment afforded 
their inhabitants, and showed that the flowers were of other 
use besides regaling the sight or smell. 

Mrs MasoU; at the request of her visitors, conducted them 
into several of the cottages, where, merely from the attention 
paid to neatness, all had the air of cheerfulness and contentment. 
She was no less pleased than were the cottagers at the expres- 
sions of approbation which were liberally bestowed by her 
admiring friends, who particularly noticed the dress of the 
young women, which, equally removed from the slovenliness 

. in which so many indulge on working days, as from the absurd 
and preposterous attempt at fashion which is on Sundays so 
generally assumed, was remarkable for neatness a,nd simplicity. 

Mrs Mason continued for some years to give her assistance 
to Morison in conducting the school, which was now increased 
by scholars from all parts of the country ; and was amply repaid 
for her kindness by the undeviating gratitude of the worthy 
couple and their children, from whom she experienced a constant 
increase of friendship and affection. 

The happy effects of their joint efforts in improving the hearts 
and dispositions of the youth of both sexes, and in confirming 
them in habits of industry and virtue, were so fully displayed, 
as to afford the greatest satisfaction to their instructors. To 
have been educated at the school of Glenburnie was considered 
as an ample recommendation to a servant, and implied a secu- 
rity for truth, diligence, and honesty. And fortunate was the 
lad pronounced whose bride could boast of the tokens of Mrs 
Mason's favour and approbation ; for never did these fail to be 
followed by a conduct that insured happiness and prosperity. 

The events that took place among the Macclarty family may 
now be briefly noticed. The first of these was Kob Macclarty's 
taking to wife the daughter of a smuggler, a man of notoriously 
bad character, who, it was said, tricked him into a marriage. 
Mrs Macclarty's opposition was violent, but abortive, and ended 
in an irreconcilable quarrel between her and her son. On being 
turned out of his house, she went to reside in a country town in 
the neighbourhood with her daughters, who were employed by 
a manufacturer in flowering muslin. Their gains were con- 
siderable ; but as all they earned was laid out in finery, it only 
added to their vanity and pride. Meg's bad conduct finally 
obliged her to leave the place, and Jean, as I learn from an 
account sent to me, married a cousin, who kept an inn of the 

true Macclarty order on the road. 

On entering this place of entertainment, everything appears 



dirty and comfortless. A passage sprinkled witli sand leads 
you into apartments where you observe the tables to be covered 
with marks of liquor ; and the chairs you will probably find 
it advisable to dust before sitting" down : this will be done by 
the sturdy servant girl who, bare-legged, and with untied 
nightcap and scanty bedgown, will, soon after your arrival, 
hurry into the room with a shovelful of coals as a kindling 
for your lire. The attendance is as bad as it possibly can be. 
The waiters are of both sexes, and all are equally ingenious in 
delay. It is a rule of the house that your bell shall never 
be answered twice by the same person. If you dine at Mr 
Macclarty^s, I shall not anticipate the pleasure of your meal, 
farther than to assure you, that you may depend on having 
here the largest and fattest mutton, and that though it should 
not be absolutely roasted to a cinder, the vegetables will not 
be more than half-boiled. In order to obtain a complete notion 
of this curiously-managed inn, you must not only dine, but 
sleep and breakfast there. The beds, from their dampness, are 
admirably calculated to give rheumatisms ; and as for breakfast, 
you must not expect it to be on the table in less than an hour 
from the time of your ordering it, even althoug'h every one of 
the waiters should promise it in live minutes. At length one 
bustles in with the tea equipage, and toast swimming in butter. 
After a lapse of time, another appears with the tea-kettle, which 
he leaves on the hearth till he goes in search of the tea ; and 
so on. Everything is served in detachments, and in a manner 
calculated to try the temper of travellers. Damp beds, bad 
cookery, wretched attendance, and slovenliness in everything, 
are rapidly causing a general desertion of the establishment, 
and impending ruin threatens this last branch of the old and 
respectable stock of the Macclartys. A rival house has been 
set up by a late scholar of Mrs Mason, and as it is conducted 
with care for the comfort of travellers, and with the most scru- 
pulous regard for cleanliness, it is attracting' all the trade to 
itself — furnishing another example of the advantages of acti- 
vity and prudence over that slothfulness which leaves every- 
thing to be done to-morrow, and excuses itself by that per- 
verse and self-indulgent phrase of Mrs Macclarty — / canna he 





^ NE morning in the montli of August 1789, a man 
% and a child were walking* throug-h the extensive and 
J. beautiful park of Eambouillet — a royal residence, 
thirty -six miles south-west of Paris. The man, 
thoug-h of a somewhat bulky frame, was yet in the prime 
of life, and had a mild and distinguished countenance. His 
' ,^Kx simple style of dress did not indicate the precise rank 
•^ which he held in society, yet his aquiline nose, his majesty 
of air, as well as the broad blue ribbon visible between his white 
waistcoat and lace frill, marked him as one of the royal family. 
As for the child, he was remarkable for almost angelic beauty 
and his clustering curls of fair hair which hung over his open 
neck and shoulders. About four years and five months old, 
but, like all precocious children, taller than usual at that age, 
he bore in his features an air of bright intelligence, shaded, 
however, as some would think, with a stamp of melancholy 
unsuitable to his years. Gay and lively in the extreme, his 
animal spirits were at one moment in wild exuberance ; in the 
next his mood changed to deep depression. His bright blue 
eyes had the irresistible charm of having their brilliance softened 
by a pensiveness of expression, calculated to interest all who 
looked on his fair countenance. 

The man was Louis XVI., King of France, the child was his 
son, Louis-Charles, the dauphin. 

No. 47. \ 


^^ Louis/' said the king", " to-morrow is the queen's ^irthdajy 
and you must think of something new for her bouquet, *and com- 
pose some little compliment.'' 

'^ Papa/' replied the young prince quickly, " I haye a beautiful 
everlasting in my garden, and it will just do for my bouquet 
and my compliment too. When presenting it to mamma, I can 
say, ' Mamma, I wish that you may be like this flower.'" 

" Very good, indeed, my child," said the king, pressing his 
little hand which he held in his. " How much I wish that your 
conduct was always as satisfactory as your little sallies are pleas- 
ing and full of heart ! I grieve to have heard that while study- 
ing your lesson with your tutor yesterday, you began to hiss. 
Was this as it ought to be, Louis ? " 

" What would you have me do, papa ?" replied Louis with an 
arch smile ; " I said my lesson so badly, that I hissed myself." 

" What was the abbe explaining to you?" said the king. 

" It was the use of the compass, and I own to you, papa, that I 
am just now greatly puzzled about it. I scarcely heard a word 
he said. All the time he was speaking, I was thinking how the 
sun would be burning up my garden and my beautiful flowers, 
and I was longing to get out to water them ; so Monsieur the 
abbe will be very angry with me to-morrow, for I do not re- 
member a single syllable. If you have time, papa, could you not 
tell me all about it while we are walking?" 

" With pleasure, Louis," answered the king', " particularly as 
I happen to have a small compass in my pocket. Before, how- 
ever, attempting to explain this curious instrument, I must tell 
you something of the magnet, from which its power and use- 
fulness are derived. The only natural magnet with which we 
are acquainted is the loadstone — a mineral of a dark iron gray 
colour approaching to black, found in great abundance in the 
iron mines of Sweden, in some parts of the East, in America, and 
sometimes, though rarely, among the iron ores of England. Now, 
the loadstone has a property of attracting- iron, which it draws 
into contact with its own mass and holds firmly attached by its 
own power of attraction. A piece of loadstone drawn several 
times along a needle or a small piece of iron, converts it into an 
artificial magnet. If this magnetised needle be then carefully 
balanced, so as to move easily on its centre, one of its ends will 
always turn to the north. Now^ Louis, look at this small case. 
You see in it the magnet, made like the hand of a clock, with 
that end which points to the north shaped like the head of an 
arrow. You see that it is carefully balanced on a steel point, 
and beneath it is a card marked like a dial-plate with north, 
south, east, west, such being the cardinal points ; also the inter- 
mediate points, as north-west, south-east, &c. By merely look- 
ing at the position of the needle when it settles to a point, the 
mariner can see the direction in which his vessel is sailing, and 
regulate his steering accordingly. The case, you see, is covered 


witli glass, to protect the face from injury. This is a small 
compass, but there are large ones which are not so well suited 
for carrying about. Whether large or small, the compass is 
one of the most useful instruments in the world. Without it, 
mariners dare not venture out of sight of land, nor would the 
discovery of America have been made by the great Columbus. 
You will remember that the magnetic needle ahvays points to 
the north." 

" Papa, tell me, is the compass as useful on land as at sea?" 

" Assuredly, my child. For example, suppose we were to lose 
our way in the adjoining forest : I know that the Chateau de 
Eambouillet lies to the north of the forest, and to iind out the 
north I look at my compass, and take the direction to which the 
needle points — so." And the king showed his son how the needle 
would act. 

The boy, who had been most attentively listening to his father, 
suddenly cried, " Do, papa, lend me your compass, and let me 
find my way by myself to the chateau." 

'' And if you lose your way?" said the king, a little startled at 
the proposal. 

" But the compass will guide me, papa." 

^^ You are not afraid, then, of being alone in the forest ? " 

"Was a king of France ever afraid?" replied Louis, proudly 
raising his pretty fair head. 

" Well, be it so," said the king ; " here is the compass, and 
here, too, is my purse, for you may want money on your way. 
Now let us part ; you, Mr Adventurer, may take to the right, I 
will keep to the left^ and I appoint you to meet me at the 

"Agreed," said Louis, kissing his father's hand as he took 
from it the compass, and then merrily plunged into the depths of 
the forest, 



For about an hour the dauphin pursued his way, directing his 
course by the compass till he arrived at the borders of the forest, 
without finding himself nearer home. A large meadow lay 
before him, in which some peasants were mowing, and he 
advanced towards them, not to inquire his way — ^t,he idea of 
seeking any other guide but his compass did not enter his head — 
no, he only wanted to know the hour. As he approached, a 
little dog began barking in rather a hostile way. His master 
called him back ; but the dog did not immediately obey, and the 
peasant left his work, and with the handle of his scythe gave 
the animal several blows. 

On hearing the cries of the dog, Louis ran to the peasant. 
" Will you sell that pretty dog, friend?" said he to him. 


" Not so fast, my little gentleman/' answered the peasant, who 
did not recognise the prince ; '^ I would not sell my dog", do 3^011 
see, for all the gold in the king^s purse. My poor Muff — my 
only companion in my poverty — my only friend ! '' 

" Then why do you beat him T' 

" He that loves well chastises well, my little gentleman." 

" Here, friend," said the child, taking a piece of gold from his 
purse ; " I will give you this, if you promise me not to love 
your dog quite so well." 

Astonished at this munificence in so young a child, the pea- 
sant said, " One would think you were the son of a king, to give 
away so much money at a time." 

" I am the son of your king," answered Louis, artlessly. 

^^ Pardon, my prince ; I ask pardon," said the peasant in great 
confusion. '^ Pardon me for having refused you the dog : it is 
yours, my prince, and all that I have besides. Take Muff, my 
good young prince — take Muff." 

" I am much obliged to you, my good sir," answered the 
child ; " but you tell me he is your only friend. Now I have a 
great many friends, so I will not deprive you of yours. I only 
want you to tell me what o'clock it is." 

" It is three o'clock, your highness." 

^' But how do you know ? — where did you see it ? " said the 
child with much surprise. " You did not look at your w^atch." 

" If we poor peasants could not tell the hour without a watch, 
I do not know what we should do. Sure we have the sun." 

^' And how do you know by the sun 1 " 

" Well, indeed, I cannot tell you that very clearly, my 
young prince ; it is, however, according to its height. When 
as high as it will go nearly over our heads, and when it casts 
the least possible shadow anywhere, we know it is noon pre- 
cisely. According as it comes down lower, and our shadow 
lengthens, it is one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, and so 
on. You see we just judge by the shadows, my good little 

"Thank you, friend, for all you have taught me," said the 
child; and then, notwithstanding the earnest intreaties of the 
peasant to be allowed to show him the way — steady to his re- 
solve to consult no guide but the compass — he fearlessly struck 
again into the forest, and at length, after several hours of wan- 
dering, now finding now missing* the track, he arrived at Ram- 
bouillet heated and panting*, yet insensible to the fatigue he had 
undergone from exultation at having, unassisted, reached the 
end of his journey. 

The moment the king saw him, he ran to him with an eager- 
ness that betrayed what had been his anxiety. " I had almost 
begun to think you had lost your way, Louis." 

" Lost my way, indeed ! How could I have lost it I " said the 
child, w^ith a half-indignant look. 


" Oh, I see your pride is up in arms ; but if it had not been 
for the compass '^ 

^^ Papa, if I had had no compass, my heart would have g"uided 
me to you." 



We must say something* of the parentage and birth of our 
young hero, and shall commence with his father. Louis XVI. 
was grandson of Louis XV., by whom, while dauphin, or heir- 
apparent to the throne of France, he was kept in comparative 
seclusion and ignorance of the knowledge required for his high 
destination. In consequence of this imperfect acquaintance with 
the world and of state aifairs, as well as from temperament, he 
was indecisive, timid, silent, and reserved ; but full of benevo- 
lence, and of exemplary morals. In 1770, he was imited to 
Marie Antoinette, daughter of Francis I. of Austria and Maria 
Theresa ; Louis at the time being no more than sixteen, and 
Marie Antoinette fifteen years of age. Educated with great 
care, this young princess was highly accomplished, and endowed 
with an uncommon share of gracefulness and beauty. In a letter 
written by her mother Maria Theresa to her future husband, she 
says, among other things, " Your bride, dear dauphin, is sepa- 
rated from me. As she has ever been my delight, so she will 
be 3^our happiness. For this purpose have I educated her, for I 
have long been aware that she was to be the companion of your 
life. I have enjoined upon her, as among her highest duties, 
the most tender attachment to your person, the greatest attention 
to everything that can please or make you happy. Above all, I 
have recommended to her humility towards God ; because I am 
convinced that it is impossible for us to contribute to the happi- 
ness of the subjects confided to us, without love to Him who 
breaks the sceptres, and crushes the thrones of kings according* 
to His own will." The departure of this young and fascinating- 
creature from Vienna filled all hearts with sorrow, so much was 
she beloved. Conducted with great state through Germany to the 
borders of France, near Strasburg, she was there assigned to the 
care of the French nobles and ladies of honour deputed to receive 
her ; but not till an important ceremonial, according to the usage 
of France, had been performed. 

In the midst of a pretty green meadow was erected a superb 
pavilion. It consisted of a vast saloon, connected with two 
apartments, one of which was assigned to the lords and ladies of 
the court of Vienna, and the other to those of the court of France, 
including body-guard and pages. The young princess being 
conducted into the apartment lor the Germans, she was there 
undressed, in order that she might retain nothing belonging to 
a foreign court; and with the slenderest covering she was ushered 


into the apartment in which her French suite was in attendance. 
It was a trying moment for a delicate female. On the doors 
being thrown open, the young princess came forward, looking 
round for her lady of honour, the Countess de Noailles ; then 
rushing into her arms, she implored her, with tears in her eyes, 
and with a heart-felt sincerity, to direct her, to advise her, and 
to be in every respect her guide and support. It was impossible 
to refrain from admiring her aerial yet august and serene deport- 
ment : her smile was sufficient to win every heart. Dressed by 
her tirewoman, the Duchess of Cosse, she became a princess of 
France ; and on presenting herself to the numerous retinue, she 
was hailed with loud and protracted acclamations. 

The journey of Marie Antoinette through France was like a 
triumphal march ] and when she arrif ed at Versailles, the enter- 
tainments given on her account were remarkably splendid. On 
the occasion of her marriage, the city of Paris also gave a mag- 
nificent fete ; but greatly to her distress and that of her husband, 
the overcrowding of the streets caused a deplorable catastrophe — 
fifty-three persons were pressed or trodden to death, and about- 
three hundred dangerously wounded. To increase the melan- 
choly recollections of the event, a fire broke out in the Place 
Louis XV. by which many persons perished, and hundreds lost 
their all. The dauphin and dauphiness were so overwhelmed 
with grief at this second disaster, that they sent their whole 
income for the year to the relief of the surviving sufferers. This 
and other traits of good dispositions seemed to endear Marie 
Antoinette to the French ; but unfortunately she was from the 
first surrounded by mean factions, whose delight lay in misre- 
presenting all her actions, and rendering her unpopular. 

The dauphin and dauphiness lived chiefly at Versailles, or in 
the small palace in the adjoining grounds, known by the name 
of the Trianon, where the princess had an opportunity of in- 
dulging in her love for flowers and gardening, and Louis could 
pursue unmolested the industrial occupations to which he was 
attached. Living much apart from state affairs, four years thus 
pleasantly passed away, when the current of their lives was 
greatly altered by the demise of the reigning sovereign. Any 
one who had visited the palace of Versailles at the beginning* of 
May 1774, would have found the inmates in a state of extreme 
consternation. Louis XV. lay ill of a dangerous malady, small- 
pox, and a number of the courtiers catching the infection, died. 
At length, on the evening of the lOth of the month, the king closed 
his mortal career. The dauphin was at this time with the dau- 
phiness in one of the apartments distant from the scene of death. 
A noise was suddenly heard by them ; it increased like the rush- 
ing of a torrent. It was the crowd of courtiers who were desert- 
ing the dead sovereign's antechamber, to come and bow to the 
new power of Louis XVI. This extraordinary tumult informed 
Marie Antoinette and her husband that they were to reign ; and 



by a spontaneous movement^ which deeply affected those arounci 
them, they threw themselves on their knees, and both pouring" 
forth a flood of tears, exclaimed, " Oh God ! guide us, protect us ; 
v/e are too young to govern ! " 

Marie Antoinette was now queen of France ; but the accession, 
brought no real happiness. For many years the court had been 
a scene of demoralisation, and full of jealousies and intrigues, 
which she found it impossible to quell. The queen was likewise 
harassed with perplexing ceremonies, for which, being- bred in a 
simple patriarchal court, she had no taste. She was little else 
than a puppet in the hands of her attendants. If she wanted a 
glass of water, she was not allowed to take it herself; it must be 
given by a lady of honour. At table everything was presented 
on bended knees, as if she had been a divinity. In making her 
toilet, she durst not pour water on her own hands ; every move- 
ment was performed by waiting -women, all members of the 
nobility. Sometimes one trifling operation would require six per- 
sons : one would take an article of dress from a wardrobe and 
hand it to another, who would in turn give it to another, and so 
on, the last putting- it on the person of the queen, who was all 
the time perhaps shivering with cold. Marie Antoinette spoke 
with satirical pleasantry of these useless ceremonies, and wished 
to abolish them ; but this only gained her enemies, and became 
the pretext for the first reproaches levelled against her. 

Louis XVI. and his queen were married eight years before they 
had any children. At length, on the 11th of December 1778, the 
queen was delivered of her first infant, a daughter, and great 
were the rejoicings on the occasion, although to a less extent 
than if the birth had been of a son. When the young princess 
was presented to the queen, she pressed her to her truly maternal 
heart. " Poor little one," said she, " you are not what was 
wished for, but you are not on that account less dear to me. A 
son would have been rather the property of the state. You shall 
be mine ; you shall have my undivided care, shall share all my 
happiness, and console me in all my troubles." A great number 
of attendants watched near the queen during the first nights 
of her confinement ; and this made her uneasy, for it was * con- 
trary to the etiquette of the court that they should lie down 
in bed. With much kindly consideration, she ordered a number 
of large arm-chairs for her women, the backs of which were 
capable of being let down by springs, and which served per- 
fectly well instead of beds. It was thus that Marie Antoinette 
felt for all who were about her. Her daughter was named Marie 

On the 22d of October 1781, the queen gave birth to a son, the 
dauphin, and on this occasion the hopes of all classes appeared to 
be crowned w4th universal joy. Numerous were the congra- 
tulations ; and Versailles for some time bore the air of a perpetual 
holiday. In the society of her son and daughter the queen now 



spent much of her time ; and as they grew up, she endeavoured 
to cultivate in them every amiable quality. During- the winter 
of 1783, when the poor suffered g'reatly from cold, she distri- 
buted larg-e sums, saved from her allowance, among- the most 
necessitous families in Versailles ; nor did she fail on this occasion 
to give her children a lesson in beneficence. Having- met on the^ 
new-year's eve to get from Paris, as in other years, all the 
fashionable playthings, she caused them to be spread out in her 
closet. Then taking her son and daughter in her hand, she 
showed them all the dolls and to^^s which were ranged there, and 
told them, that she intended to give them some handsome new- 
year's gifts, but that the cold made the poor so w^retched, that all 
her money w^as spent in blankets and clothes to protect them 
from the rigour of the season, and in supplying them with bread ; 
so that this year they would only have the pleasure of looking at 
the new playthings. When she returned with her children into 
her sitting-room, she said there was still an unavoidable expense 
to be incurred, and that was paying the toyman for the use of 
his toys and the cost of his journey, and a sum was accordingly 
paid to him for his services. 

To the family of Marie Antoinette another addition was made 
on the 27th of March 1785, when Louis-Charles, the object of 
our present memoir, was born. Immediately on his birtb, which 
took place at Versailles, the king, his father, conferred on him 
the title of Duke of Normandy, which had not been given to 
the princes of France since the time of Charles VII. He was 
baptised the same day, his sponsors being Monsieur, the king's 
brother (afterwards Louis XVIII. ), and Madame Elizabeth, as- 
proxy for the queen of Naples. This was a happy event in the 
royal family of France, and served to assuage the vexations in 
which the king was becoming involved with his state affairs. 
It was another bright moment when the princess Sophie was 
born in 1788 ; but she died w^iile still an infant, and shortly 
afterwards the dauphin fell in a few months from a florid state 
of health into so weak a condition, that he could not walk with- 
out support. How many maternal tears did his languishing^ 
frame, the certain forerunner of death, draw from the queen^ 
already overwhelmed with apprehensions respecting the state of 
the kingdom ! Her grief was enhanced by petty intrigues and 
quarrels among the persons who surrounded her. The dauphin 
died in 1789 ; and Louis-Charles, or Louis, as his father usually 
called him, became dauphin in his stead. 

To a naturally amiable disposition, Louis-Charles united an 
intellect premature in its development, with a countenance 
which bore the mingled expression of the mildness of his father 
and the lofty dignity of his mother. As he grew up in child- 
hood, he showed a most decided love for flowers ; and the king^ 
who wished to cultivate tastes so simple and so conducive in 
their practical exercise to his bodily health, had given him a 



little plot of ground in front of the apartments opening on 
the terrace at Versailles. There was the dauphin, day after 
day, to be seen with his little spade working* away ; and thoug-h 
the perspiration stood in large drops upon his forehead, he 
would suffer no one to help him. " No," said he ; " it is be- 
cause I make the flowers g"row myself that mamma is so fond 
of them ; so I must work hard to have them ready for her." 
And every morning* the young* proprietor of this little domain 
came to pull his fairest roses, his most fragrant violets, to 
form a bouquet to lay on his mother's bed; so that the iirst 
thing Marie Antoinette always saw on awaking was her boy's 
early offering ; while from behind the curtain he watched her 
smile of pleasure, then sprang from his hiding-place to claim 
his reward — that reward a kiss — and that kiss w^as so sweet 
to him that no severity of weather could hinder him from going 
to his little garden to pull the flowers that w^on for him this 

And here we would pause to say, if, in this elevated rank, it 
is found that when affection is to be evinced it is evinced in a 
w^ay common to all classes — evinced in the daily little attentions 
miscalled trifling — may not those in humble life who have per- 
haps felt inclined to murmur that all power to bestow large 
bounties, all opportunity to make splendid sacrifices in proof of 
love, has been denied to them, repress the vain wish that it had 
been otherwise, and rest satisfied in the recollection that however 
rare may be the occasions to save or serve, and vouchsafed to 
few, yet all may please. Let such, though they may not have 
even the flower in the bud to give, rejoice that a kindly look, the 
smallest office of patient love, the shrinking from giving pain, 
the bitter word repressed when rising to the lips, is no despicable 
offering, either in the eyes of an earthly friend or in the sight of 
that heavenly friend who forgets not the cup of cold water given 
for his sake, and who said of her of small power but loving 
heart, " She hath done what she could." 

The young prince was not always equally studious or docile, 
and one day that he was to be punished for some misdemeanour, 
the plan devised was to take from him his dear little dog Muff, 
which the grateful peasant of the forest had brought as an offer- 
ing to his young prince ; and next to his parents and his flowers 
all his care w^as for Muff. On this occasion the dog' was shut up 
in a closet where the dauphin might hear but could not see him 
— a privation apparently as great to Muff as to his master, for 
he never ceased howling and scratching at the door. The prince, 
unable to bear it any longer, ran with tears streaming down his 
cheeks to the queen. ^^"Mamma," cried he, " Muff is so un- 
happy, and you know, as it was not he that was naughty, he 
ought not to be jDunished. If you will let him out, I promise to 
go into the closet instead of him, and to stay there as long as 
3^ou wish." His petition was granted ; Muff was set at libel'ty, 


and the little daupliin remained patiently in tlie dark closet till 
his mother released him. 

Like most children of his age, he did not always make proper 
application of the maxims which he heard. .One day that, in 
the exuberance of animal spirits, he was about to throw himself 
into the midst of some rose-bushes^ " Take care," said the queen, 
''^ those thorns might tear your eyes out^ and will certainly 
scratch you severely." 

" But, dear mamma/'' answered he in a most magnanimous 
tone, "thorny paths, you know, lead to glory." 

" It is a noble maxim," replied the queen, " but I see you do 
not quite understand it. What glory can there be in getting your 
eyes scratched out for the mere pleasure of jumping into a hedge ? 
If, indeed, it were to extricate any one from danger, there would 
be glory in it, but as it is, there is only imprudence. My child, 
you must not talk of glory till you are able to read the history 
of true heroes who have disinterestedly sacrificed life and fortune 
for the good of others." 

On one occasion his governess, uneasy at seeing him running' 
at headlong speed, said to the queen, " He will surely fall." 

" He must learn to fall," replied Marie Antoinette. 

^^ But he may hurt himself." 

^'' He must learn to endure pain," said the queen, who, with 
all her fondness, had no desire to make her boy effeminate. 

■ ' : lY. 


The love of rural pursuits evinced by the young dauphin was 
destined to be rudely broken in upon. While with his parents 
at Versailles in 1789, the revolution in France broke out, and 
filled the royal family with alarm. It was the misfortune of 
Louis XVI. to have fallen on evil times, and, with all his good 
qualities, to become the victim on whose head the popular resent- 
ment for long'-endured injuries should be visited. It was another 
of his misfortunes to be surrounded by incompetent advisers, and 
to be deserted by the classes vfho might have been expected to 
rally round the throne. 

When tumults began to take place in Paris, it was considered 
necessary that the king' should proceed thither to show himself 
to the people at the Hotel de Ville. He went on the 17th of 
July 1789. Everybody knows that this movement gave a 
trifling lull to the storm. Yf hen the sovereign received the 
tri-coloured cockade from the mayor of Paris in front of an 
assembled multitude, a shout of Vive le Moi ! arose on all sides. 
The king breathed again freely at that moment ; he had not for 
a long time heard such acclamations. During his absence the 
queen shut herself up in her private rooms with her famil^y. 



Slie sent iot several persons belonging to tlie court, hut tlieir 
doors were locked; terror had driven thern away. A deadly 
silence reigned throiigliout the palace ; fear was at its height ; 
the king was hardly expected to return. He did however come 
backj and was received with inexpressible joy by the queen, his 
sister, and his children. He congratulated himself that no acci- 
dent had happened ; and it v/as then he repeated several times, 
" Happily no blood has heen shed, and I swear that never shall 
a drop of French blood be shed by my order.'*' 

It is not our intention to relate the history of the revolution 
which had already commenced, but only to note a few particulars 
in the life of our young hero and his unfortunate parents. On 
various pretexts it vfas resolved by the mob of Paris, a large 
portion of whom were women of the lowest habits, to march to 
Versailles and bring the royal family to Paris. This alarming 
movement took place on the 5th and 6th of October. The court, 
deserted by the host of nobles who might have been expected to 
rally round the throne, and with scarcely any friends left but 
their immediate attendants and attached guards, were on this 
momentous occasion exposed to many gross indignities, and with 
some difficulty were able to save their lives. Carriages being 
prepared, they were compelled to go into them and proceed to 
Paris, attended by a rabble of many thousands. It was not 
the least of the many painful circumstances accompanying this 
removal, that the king was compelled to withdraw his son from 
the healthy breezes of the country to the comparative close- 
ness of a city atmosphere. The boy, also, was inconsolable. 
To be taken away from his little garden was a sore grief; his 
beautiful flowers, the flowers reared with his own hands, would, 
he said, wither and die ; and he was like to die at the thought. 
In order to console him, he was told he should have much nicer 
•flowers at Paris, and as many as he could wish for. " They will 
not be my own flowers that I planted and watered," he answered * 
" I shall never love any flowers so well as these.'' 

Clinging to his mamma in terror of the horde of wild-look- 
ing men and women who were shouting in demoniac laughter^ 
the dauphin entered one of the coaches ; the queen alternately 
trying to pacify his fears, and to look with calmness on the ter- 
rific throng. Already blood had been shed. The mob, in forcing 
the palace, had killed two of the guards who defended the queen's 
apartments from outrage ; and with the heads of these unfortu- 
nate and brave men stuck on the end of poles, a party preceded 
the ro^^al carriages to Paris. These wretches, with a refinement 
of cruelty which, we imagine, could scarcely be matched out of 
France, stopped on the way at Sevres, and compelled a hair- 
dresser to dress the gory heads according to the fashion of the 
period. In the rear of this band slowly came the procession of 
soldiers, citizens, women — an indescribable crowd of the vilest 
beings on earth — some riding astride on cannons, some carrying 



pikes or muskets, and numbers waving* long* branches of poplar. 
It looked like a moving forest, amidst which shone pike-heads 
and gun-barrels. After the royal carriages came the king's 
faithful guards, some on foot and some on horseback, most of 
them uncovered and worn out with want of sleep, hunger, and 
fatigue. Finally came a number of carriages containing deputies 
of the Assem^bly, followed by the bulk of the Parisian army. 

In the course of the journey, which was protracted to a late 
hour, the king and queen were constantly reviled by the crowd 
of savage women who thronged about them. There was at the 
time a dearth of bread in Paris, arising from natural causes ; 
but it was imputed to the king, and now that he was in the 
hands of the mob, they cried out that bread would no longer be 
either dear or scarce. "We shall no longer," they shouted at 
the windows of the royal carriages, " we shall no longer want 
bread ; w^e have the baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's boy 
with us.-' In the midst of all the revilings, tumult, and singing, 
interrupted by frequent discharges of musketry, might be seen 
Marie Antoinette preserving the most courageous tranquillity of 
soul, and an air of noble and inexpressible dignity. 

The departure of the royal family for Paris was so hurried 
that no time was afforded to make preparations at the palace of 
the Tuileries, which, since the minority of Louis XV., had not 
been the residence of the kings of France. Some apartments, 
however, were cleared for their reception ; and from this time 
may be dated the captivity of Louis XVI. in the hands of his 

On the day after the arrival of the court in Paris, a noise was 
heard in the garden of the Tuileries, which, terrifying the 
■dauphin, he threw himself into the arms of the queen, crying- 
out, " Oh mamma, is yesterday come again?" The child in 
his simplicity could not account for the revolutionary move- 
ments of which he, with others, was the victim ; and a few days 
after making* the above affecting exclamation, he went up to his 
father to speak to him on the subject. " Well, Louis, what is it 
you wish to say ? " asked the king. 

" I want to know, papa," he answered pensively, " why the 
people, who formerly loved you so well, are all at once angry 
with you ; what is it you have done to irritate them so much ? " 

His father, interested in the question, took him upon his knee^ 
and spoke to him nearly as follows : — " I wished, my dear Louis, 
to make my people still happier than they v\'ere. I wanted money 
to pay the expenses occasioned by wars. I asked my people for 
money, as the former kings of France had done ; the magistrates 
composing the parliament opposed it, and said that my people 
had alone a right to consent to it. I thereupon assembled the 
principal inhabitants of every town, whether distinguished by 
birth, fortune, or talents, at Versailles ; and that is what is called 
the States-General. When all were assembled, they required 



concessions of me which I could not make, either with due re- 
spect for myself or Avith justice to you, who will be my successor. 
Wicked men inducing* the people to rise, have occasioned the 
excesses of the last few days ; the people must not be blamed for 

The dauphin had now a more clear idea of the position of 
afiiiirs, and to please his father and mother, he endeavoured to 
avoid giving- cause of offence to those about him. When he had 
occasion to speak to the officers of the national g-uards, mayors 
of the communes, or revolutionary leaders who visited the Tuile- 
ries, he did so Vv'ith much affability. If the queen happened to be 
pjresent, he would come and whisper in her ear, " Is that right ?'' 

The royal family were not permitted to consider the v/hole 
garden of the Tuileries as their own. The chief portion was 
claimed by the National Assembly. In that part appropriated 
to the king's household, the dauphin was given a small patch 
in w^hich he might pursue his love for flowers ; but even this 
indulgence was clogged with the regulation that he should be 
attended by members of the national guard. At first the escort 
w^as small, and courteously did the young prince invite his 
guards to enter, and graciously did he distribute flowers amongst 
them ; sometimes saying to them, " I would give you a great 
many more, but mamma is so fond of them." But the guard 
being gradually increased, he could no longer do the honours 
of his little domain to all, and once he apologised to those who 
were pressing round the palisades — '^ I am sorry, gentlemen, 
that my garden is too small to permit of my having the pleasure 
of seeing you all in it." 

One day a poor woman made her way into the garden, and 
presented him a petition. " My prince," said she, " if you can 
obtain this favour for me, I shall be as happy as a queen." The 
child took the paper, and with a look of deep sadness exclaimed, 
^^ Happy as a queen ! you say ; I know one queen who does 
nothing but w^eep all day lon^ 



The years 1790 and 1791 were passed by the royal family in a 
state of constant apprehension. Clamoured against by all, and in 
constant danger of assassination, the king appears to have sunk 
into a state of gloomy despondency, from which neither the smiles 
of his wife nor the sallies of little Louis could raise him. For some 
months he scarcely spoke a word. The queen spent mucPi of her 
time in tears. Recommended by a few attached partisans, as 
w^ell as by his own fears, he made an attempt to leave the king- 
dom with his family, btit, as every one knows, they were stopped 
at Varennes before they reached the frontiers, and brought back 



to Paris. In tlieir return they were under tlie charge of Bar- 
navcj one of the deputies appointed by the Assembly to attend 
the royal prisoners. At the time it v^as customary for the revo- 
lutionists to wear buttons on which was the deviccj "To live 
free, or die." Observing* words to that effect on the button of 
M. Barnave, the dauphin said, " Mamma, what does that mean 
—to live free V " My child," replied the queen, " it is to go 
where you please." "Ah, mamma," replied the child quickl^^, 
" then we are not free !" 

This attempt at flight considerably aggravated the condition 
of the royal family, who were now more carefully watched than 
ever; the king and queen living almost continually under the 
eyes of sentinels, and all their correspondence watched. These 
things preyed on the mind of Marie Antoinette, and began to 
give her the appearance of premature old age. 

" Mamma," said the dauphin one day shortly after the return 
of the family to the Tuileries, " how white your hair has grown !" 
" Hush, my dear child," replied the queen ; " let us not think of 
such trifles when we have greater sorrows, those of poor papa, to 
distress us." It is true the queen's beautiful hair had grow^n 
white from the efPect of grief. In a single night it had become 
as white as that of a woman of seventy, yet she was only about 
half that age. The Princess de Lamballe having asked for a 
lock of her whitened hair, she had a small quantity set in a ring 
and presented to her, with the inscription, bleached hy sorrow. 

On the 20th of June 1792, a lawless Parisian rabble forced 
the Tuileries, and rushed like demoniacs from room to room in 
search of the king and queen, w^ho, though sufficiently alarmed, 
did not quail before this barbarous torrent. Placing themselves 
in a recess, with two or three attendants, they awaited what 
might be their fate. The queen placed the dauphin before her 
on a table. When the tumultuous procession advanced, a person 
of coarse appearance gave the king a red cap, which he put on 
his head, and a similar emblem was drawn over the head of 
little Louis, almost burying the whole of his face. The horde 
passed in files before the table, carrying symbols of the most 
horrid barbarity. There was one representing a gibbet, to which 
a dirty doll w^as suspended, wdth an inscription signifying that 
it was Marie Antoinette.^ Another was a board, to which a 
bullock's heart was fastened^ with the words inscribed, " Heart 
of Louis XVI." 

By the interference of several deputies, no bloody deed was 
committed on this occasion. The result was very different on 
the ensuing 10th of Aug^ust, when the palace of the Tuileries 
was attacked and captured after a gallant and ineffectual defence 
by the Swiss guards, all of whom, to the number of eight hun- 
dred, were barbarously put to death. It would be too painful, even 
if it were necessary, to describe this terrible massacre. The poor 
son of Louis XVI., no longer heir to a throne, for the monarchy 



was abolisliedj shared all the perils of that day^ evincing' a decree 
of courage beyond his age. When the wainscotting of a secret 
passage in which the family had taken refuge appeared to be 
giving way imder the repeated blows of the mob^ and when the 
Cjueen with suspended breath was listening to each stroke of the 
axe, the boy, gliding from the terror-relaxed hold of his mother, 
fell on his knees, and putting up his little hands, piously ex- 
claimed, "Oh God, save mamma! — thou art able to do every- 
thing. Oh send away these men ! — a poor chi'ld is praying for his 
mother ! Oh thou good God, wilt thou not hear him ?" As if in 
answer to this artless prayer, the noise suddenly ceased, and an 
announcement was made that the people demanded to see the 
queen — a fruitless interview, though affording' a respite at the 

The result is well known. Louis XVI., the queen, the dau- 
phin and his sister, with Madame Elizabeth, the sister of the 
king, took refuge in the Assembly, whence, after a lengthened 
debate, they were transferred to confinement in the Feuillans ; 
from this place of detention they were soon taken to the Temple. 



The Temple owes its name to the Templars, a military order of 
priests, who in the twelfth century devoted themselves to the 
recovery of the Holy Temple at Jerusalem from the Saracens. 
In 1250 they founded this, the principal house of their order^ 
and retained possession of it for 160 years. Like the other 
ancient fortresses, it was surrounded by high and turreted battle- 
ments, in the middle of which rose a square tower, the walls of 
which were nine feet in thickness, and which was flanked by four 
other round towers. The church, of rudely Gothic construction, 
was built on the model of that of St John at Jerusalem. 

Within a court-yard in this gloomy edifice, as well as in the 
park at Versailles and on the terrace of the Tuileries, Louis- 
Charles was indulged with a small garden, a plot where the 
flowers might indeed want the sunshine, but still to him they 
were flowers — he still had a garden to cultivate. The large 
square tower was the prison of the royal family : there for many 
months, to the very day of his death, Louis XVI., whose posses- 
sion of all the virtues which constitute a good father, a good 
head of a family, is not denied even by his enemies, devoted him- 
self to the education of his son. It was his delight to develop 
and cultivate that youthful and naturally quick and powerful 
intellect. Often did his mirthful sallies, his playful wit, beguile 
the anxious parents of a smile. 

Every morning the king rose at six o'clock, and prepared the 
lessons he intended giving to his son ; at ten, the captives 



assembled in tlie queen's apartment; and study beg-an. Very 
sweet Avere these hours to the poor prisoners, and whilst the 
lesson lasted, each seemed to forget past greatness, and ceased to 
anticipate future perils ; but too often, alas ! these calm domestic 
scenes were interrupted by clamorous shouts, nay, even death- 
screams, from without, which too plainly told the royal victims- 
that the forfeiture of liberty and a crown was no security for life 
being" spared. 

It Avas in such hours as these that the courage of Louis XVI. 
seemed to grow with the danger — that courage which consists in 
calm endurance. As soon as each new cause for alarm had 
ceased, he endeavoured to lure his startled little circle into forget- 
fulness of it by some question to the prince — at times it might be 
a riddle, an enig'ma ; and his ingenious guesses often succeeded in 
checking the tears of the fond mother and aunt. 

^' Louis," asked the king on one of these occasions, " what i& 
that which is white and black, weighs not an ounce, travels night 
and day like the wind, and tells a thousand things without speak- 
ing?" "It must be a horse," answered the dauphin; "it surely 
is a horse. A horse may be white and black, and a horse runs 
races, and a horse does not speak.*' " So far so good, my boy ; 
but a horse weig'hs somewhat more than an ounce, and I never 
heard of his telling any news." " Ah ! now papa, I have it ; it 
is a newspaper," and the young prince's merry peal of laughter 
almost met a response from the sorrowful little group. , ^^ An- 
other question for you," said the king-. " Who is she, the most 

beautiful, the best, the noblest " " Who but niam^ma," quickly 

interrupted the dauphin, throwing himself into the queen's arms. 
"You did not give me time to finish, Louis,'^ pursued his father; 
"' I ask 3^ou who is the most beautiful, the best, the noblest, and 
who yet repels the greater part of mankind?" "It is Truth^ 
papa; but to tell you the truth, I did not guess it myself; my 
sister whispered it to me." 

In such little exercises of ingenuity, and at times in playing a 
geographical game invented by the king, were the boy's hours 
of recreation passed. This game consisted in drawing out of 
a little bag the names of towns, which were then traced out 
upon the map and marked by counters, and the game was won 
by whichever player told most of the historical events occurring 
in the places the names of which they had drawn. 

Thus the autumn of 1792 passed and winter came on with- 
out bringing any alleviation of the condition of the prisoners. 
One evening, after the candles were lighted, when the family 
were arranged round the table in their sitting apartment, the 
dauphin, with the inquisitiveness of youth, asked his father what 
book it was he was now reading and stud^ang so carefulljr. " It 
is the history of an unfortunate king, Charles the First of Eng- 
land," answered Louis. " How was he unfortunate, dear papa ? 
Did his people put him in prison, as vours have done ?" " Yes, 



my dear child, there is much resemblance in our lives, as I feav 
there will be in our fate" — here the queen uttered a deep sig'h, and 
looked with a g-ony towards her husband — "but you shall read 
the memoirs of Charles when you are old enoug-h to comprehend 
his history : it is too intricate and difficult for a boy. See, here 
is a book which I have sent for to amuse you, and I think you 
will like it better than the very melancholy memoirs of Charles 
the First.'' " Thank you, dear papa. Oh ! I see it is full of stories ; 
shall I read one aloud ?" " Certainly, if you please : take that 
pretty one near the beginning: called Arthur; it teaches a fine 
lesson to boys in adversity.'' The dauphin read as follows : — 

" A poor labourer, named Bernard, had six young children^ 
and found himself much at a loss to maintain them ; to add to 
his misfortune, an unfavourable season much increased the price 
of bread. Bernard worked day and night, yet, in spite of his 
labours, could not possibly earn enough of money to provide food 
for six hungry children. He was reduced to extremit}^. Call- 
ing therefore one day his little family together, with tears in 
his eyes he said to them, /My dear children, bread is become so- 
dear that, with all my labour, I am not able to earn sufficient for 
your subsistence. This piece of bread in my hand must be paid 
for Y/ith the w^ages of my whole day's labour, and therefore you 
must be content to share with me the little that I have been able 
to earn. There certainly will not be sufficient to satisfy you all ; 
but at least there will be enough to prevent your perishing with 
hunger.' The poor man could say no more : he lifted up his- 
eyes to heaven, and wept ; his children wept also, and each one 
said Avithin himself, ' Oh Lord, come to our assistance, unfortunate 
infants that we are ! — help our dear father, and suffer us not to 
perish for want ! ' Bernard divided the bread into seven equal 
shares ; he kept one for himself, and distributed the rest amongst 
his children. But one of them, named Arthur, refused his share, 
and said, ' I cannot eat anything, father ; I find myself sick. 
Do you take my part, or divide it amongst the rest.' ^ My poor 
child! what is the matter with you?' said Bernard, taking him 
up in his arms. ' I am sick,' answered Arthur, ' very sick.' Ber- 
nard carried him to bed, and the next morning he went to a 
physician, and besought him for charity to come and see his 
sick child. The physician, who was a man of great humanity, 
went to Bernard's house, though he was very sure of not being 
paid for his visits. He approached Arthur's bed, felt his pulse, 
but could not thereby discover any symptoms of illness. He 
was going to prescribe a cordial draught, but Arthur said, ^ Do 
not order anything for me, sir; I could take nothing that you 
should prescribe for me.' 

The physician asked him the reason for refusing the medicine, 
but the child tried to evade the question. He then accused him 
of being obstinate, and said he should inform his father. This 
distressed, Arthur greatly, and, no longer able to conceal his 



^motionSj he said lie y/ould explain everything* to him if no one 
were present. 

The children were now ordered to withdraw^ and then Arthur 
continued — ' Alas ! sir^ in this hard season my father can scarcely 
earn us every day a loaf of coarse bread. He divides it among'st 
us. Each of us can have hut a small part^ and he will hardly 
take any for himself. It makes me unhappy to see mj little 
brothers and sisters suiter hunger. I am the eldest^ and have 
more streng-th than they ; I like better^ therefore, not to eat 
any, that they may divide my share among'st them. This is the 
reason v/hy I pretended that I was sick ; but I intreat you not 
to let my father know this ! ' 

The medical attendant was affected, and said, ^ But, my dear 
little friend, are you not hungry?^ ^ Yes, sir, I am hungry; but 
that does not give me so much pain as to see my family suifer.^ 

^ But you will soon die if you take no nourishment.' 

^ I am sensible of that,' replied Arthur, ' but I shall die con- 
tented. My father wdll have one mouth less to feed ; and I pray 
God to give bread to my little brothers and sisters when I am 

The humane physician was melted with pity and admiration 
on hearing the generous child speak thus. Taking him up in 
his arms, he clasped him to his heart, and said, ' No, my dear 
little friend, you shall not die ! God, who is the father of us 
all, will take care of you and of your family.' He hastened to his 
own house, and ordering one of his servants to take a quantity 
of provisions of all sorts, returned with him immediately to 
Arthur and his famished little brothers. He made them all sit 
down at table, and eat heartily until they were satisfied. It was 
a delightful sight for the good physician to behold the joy of 
those innocent creatures. On his departure he bid Arthur not 
to be under any concern, for that he would provide for their 
necessities ; which promise he faithfully observed, and furnished 
them every day with a plentiful subsistence. Other charitable 
persons also, to whom he related the circumstance, imitated his 
generosity. Some sent them provisions, some money, and others 
clothes and linen, so that in a short time this little family became 
possessed of plenty. 

As soon as Bernard's landlord was informed of what the gene- 
rous little Arthur had suffered for his father and brothers, he 
sent for Bernard, and addressed him thus : ' You have an admir- 
able son ; permit me to be his father also. I will employ you 
on my farm ; and Arthur, with all your other children, shall be 
put to school at my expense.' Bernard returned to his house 
transported with joy, and, throwing himself upon his knees, 
blessed God for having given him so worthy a child." 

As the winter of 1792-3 advanced, the situation of the royal 
family in the Temple became more painful. It was* resolved 



to suppress certain indulg-ences which thej had liitlierto enjoyed. 
Their food was to be more plain and less abundant, they were to 
eat off pewter instead of silver, tallow candles were to be substi- 
tuted for wax, and their servants were to be reduced in number. 
None of these attendants, however, were to enter their apart- 
ments ; and their meals were to be introduced to them b}^ means 
of a turning-box. The carrying of these pitiful arrangements into 
execution was confided to a municipal officer named Hebert. This 
man had originally been check-taker at the door of a theatre, from 
which he was expelled for having embezzled the receipts. He 
was now the editor of a foul and slanderous print, and by the 
most odious arts as an ultra revolutionist, had attained consider- 
able power. A ruling passion with him seems to have been the vili- 
fying and tormenting the royal family, and pursuing them indi- 
vidually to destruction. Empowered by the Convention, he re- 
paired to the Temple ; and not satisfied with taking away the 
most trifling articles to which the royal family attached a value, 
he deprived Madame Elizabeth of eighty louis which she had 
received from Madame de Lamballe. No man, observes M. 
Thiers, is more dangerous, more cruel, than the man without 
acquirements, without education, clothed with a recent authority ; 
if, above all, he possess a base nature, and leap all at once from 
the mud of his condition into power, he is as mean as he is atro- 

Rendered in every respect uncomfortable in circumstances by 
the miserable devices of this wretch, and agitated hj the rumours 
which daily reached them, the royal family looked with appre- 
hension to the future. Never had the dauphin seen so many 
tears ; his most playful sallies could not extort a solitary smile. 
They did not tell him of the impending misfortune, nor could he 
have suspected it while gazing' on the calm and firm countenance 
of his father. The poor child in his simplicity thought, and in- 
deed said, " They will not do any harm to papa ; for papa never 
did them any harm." The 20th of January 1793 came, and sen- 
tence of death was passed on Louis XVI. When it was announced 
to him, he asked to see his family. This request was granted.' 
The interview took place at eight o^clock in the evening. The 
queen, holding the dauphin by the hand, Madame Elizabeth, 
and Marie Therese, rushed sobbing into the arms of Louis XVI. 
During the first moments it was but a scene of confusion and 
despair. At length tears ceased to iiow, the conversation became 
more calm, and the king tried to console his heart-broken family. 
While the dauphin stood between his father's knees gazing on 
his face, scarcely conscious of the full extent of the loss he was 
so soon to sustain, the public criers suddenly proclaimed under 
the tower the sentence of death, and the hour for the execution. 
The half - distracted boy tore himself from his father's arms, 
rushed from the apartment, and endeavoured to force his way 
through the guards. "Where are you going so fast?" asked 



one of tliem, rudely repelling the poor child. " To speak' to the 
people, gentlemen; to implore them not to kill papa. Oh, do 
let me pass ! " All was in vain, and Louis-Charles had to retrace 
his steps, crying, " Papa, papa ; oh do not kill papa P' as if his 
heart were like to burst. 

The king led his family to entertain the hope of a last inter- 
view in the morning ; but on consideration he thought it bettei* 
.that such should not take place. At an early hour, the roll of 
the drums announced that the unfortunate husband and father 
was led out to execution. The particulars of that dreadful event 
are too painful to be minutely dwelt upon. At the scaffold he 
addressed a few words to the people, saying in a firm voice that 
he died innocent of the crimes imputed to him ; that he for- 
gave the authors of his death, and prayed that his blood might 
not fall on France. He would have continued, but the drums 
were instantly ordered to beat, and their rolling drowned the 
voice of the kins;-. In a few moments all was over. As 
soon as the deed was perpetrated, furious wretches dipped their 
pikes and their handkerchiefs in the blood, spread themselves 
throughout Paris, and with shouts even went to the gates of 
the Temple to display that brutal and factious joy which the 
rabble manifests at the birth, the accession, and the fall of 

Such was the fate of the unfortunate Louis XYI., a man of 
almost unexampled benevolence of disposition, who ever endea- 
voured to act on his favourite maxim, that '' kings exist only to 
make nations happy by their government, and virtuous by their 
example." Now called on to expiate the political errors of his 
dissolute predecessors, an angry word never escaped him in the 
depth of his misfortunes. In his will, written December 25, 
1792, he says — ^'I forgive, from mj w^hole heart, those who have 
conducted themselves towards me as enemies, without my giving* 
them the least cause, and I pray God to forgive them. And 1 
exhort my son, if he should ever have the misfortune to reign^ 
to forget all hatred and enmity, and especially my misfortunes 
and sufferings. I recommend to him always to consider that it 
is the duty of man to devote himself entirely to the happiness of 
his fellow-men; that he will promote the happiness of his subjects 
only when he governs according to the laws ; and that the king 
can make the laws respected, and attain his object, only when he 
possesses the necessary authority." In the same spirit, on the 
day before his condemnation, he sent to his faithful servants, 
who were ready to risk all for him, this message — '* I should 
never forgive you if a single drop of blood were shed on my 
account. I refused to suffer any to be shed when, perhaps, it 
might have preserved to me my crown and my life ; but I do 
not repent : no, I do not repent." 

* Thiers, 




Marie Antoinette was now a widow, and her children orphans. 
The jDrince was acknowledg-ed throughout Europe to he king, 
under the title of Louis XVII. But, alas ! this honour only- 
aggravated the sufferings of this unfortunate child. A short 
time after the execution of her husband, the queen was forcibly 
separated from her son. The scene of her ^Darting with her dear 
boy, for whose sake alone she had consented to endure the 
burden of existence, was so touching, so heart-rending, that the 
very jailers who witnessed it could not refrain from tears. 

The revolutionary tribunal, which had no little difficulty in 
finding pleas against Louis XVI. and his queen, was greatly enir 
barrassed in its treatment of their infant son. Only eight years 
of age, he was too young to be either tried or guillotined. Not 
that the wish was wanting to put him to death along- with the 
other members of his family ; but the spectacle of a child under 
the hands of the executioner might have formed a somewhat 
dangerous provocative to 23ublic indignation. There was one 
thing, therefore, which the monsters who assumed the character 
of judges in that dreadful period durst not do : they durst not 
openly put an innocent and fair-haired child to a bloody death. 
Undetermined as to v/hat should be done with this youthful de- 
scendant of a hundred kings, they readily yielded to the request 
of Llebert, who proposed that it would be highly expedient for 
the nation to give Louis Capet, as he called him, a sound sans- 
culotte education ; that he should receive thorough notions of 
liberty and equality, and be at the same time taught a handi- 
craft, whereby he might gain an honest livelihood. The means 
of instruction, he said, were already at hand. Simon, a shoe- 
maker and a good Jacobin, was quite the man to undertake this 
weighty charge. Hebert's proposal met with a ready assent, 
and the young prince was consigned to Simon and his wife, both 
of whom went to reside in the Tem23le, for the purpose of con- 
ducting their new duties. 

From anything which can be gathered from history, it does 
not appear that Simon was to be in any respect accountable for 
his treatment of the poor boy handed over to his care ; and from 
his conduct, it might reasonably be inferred, that the greater his 
cruelty, the greater would be his merit in the eyes of the Con- 
vention. The most correct mode of describing Simon would be 
to speak of him as an utter blackguard, a man lost to all sense of 
decency — ignorant, brutal, and habitually intemperate. Torn 
from the arms of his mother, and committed to the charge of 
such a personage, the youthful king was made to drain even to 
the dregs the martvr's bitter cup. 



The vflaole course of life of Louis-Cliarles was now altered. 
Simon hated books, and tore and trampled in pieces those of his 
prisoner, substituting* for them, as his only recreation, the perusal 
of a placard entitled the Eig-hts of Man. Simon hated exercise, 
and therefore would not permit the young" king" to walk any more 
in the g-arden attached to the prison. Simon hated bii^ds, and 
therefore took away from his little captive two tame canaries 
which his aunt, Madame Elizabeth, had reared for him. Simon 
hated religion, and therefore expressly forbade his young* charge 
ever to say his prayers ; and one night having surprised the child 
kneeling with uplifted hands beside his fiock-bed, he flew at him, 
crying, " What are you about there, Capet; tell me or I will be 
the death of you ? " The child confessed that he was repeating a 
little prayer which his mamma had taught him. Simon instantly 
seized the child by the arm, and flung him into a dark dungeon, 
vfhere for several days he was allowed only bread and water. 

But there was one thing which Simon did not hate, and that 
was — drink ; and whenever he sat down to it, he used to hold out 
his glass, crying, " Here, Capet, wine here ; hand me some wine, 
I say." Hard was it for the child to brook such an oflice to such 
a being ; but the slightest murmur was so severely punished, that 
he was obliged to submit to be a servant to Simon, and to learn 
the duties of his new situation from the cruelties of this tyranni- 
cal supporter of equality and the rights of man. Nor was his 
merry moods less trying to the little sufferer ; for then he began 
to sing, and as he would not sing alone, and as he knew only 
those horrible choruses howled around the guillotine, the child 
had to choose between joining in them and being severely beaten ; 
and often did he sufi'er himself to be felled to the earth sooner 
than comply. Not even at night had he respite from his tor- 
mentor. Several times he was awakened by this Simon calling 
out, " Capet, are you asleep 1 Where are you 1 Come here till 
I look at you." The poor little victim used to start from his 
sleep, jump out of bed, and run almost naked to his tyrant, who 
suffered him to approach till near enough to be kicked back to 

The wife of Simon, however, at times felt some touch of pity 
for the sufferings of the unhappy child, and tried, without the 
knowledge of her husband, to procure him some indulgences. 
She once ventured to remonstrate with his terrible jailer, repre- 
senting to him the cruelty of not giving the little Capet a single 
plaything, " You are quite right," answered Simon ; " children 
ought to be amused ; he shall have a plaything to-morrow." 

On the morrow he brought him a little model of a guillotine : 
the child, in horror, hid his face in his hands, crying, '^ I will die 
rather than touch it." Simon rushed upon him, poker in hand ;, 
and had it not been for the interposition of M. Naudin, the sur- 
geon, who came in at that moment to see Simon^s wife, who was 
ill, the helpless victim would for ever have escaped the brutal 


rage of liis tormentor, wlio^ however, wlien tlie surgeon had left^. 
.handed to the boy, as if shamed into indulgence, two pears iix 
addition to his usual scanty supper. The child took them, and 
laid them aside for a purpose not to be discovered by such a 
mind as that of Simon, and began to eat his bread, which he held 
in one hand, while with the other he added another storey to the 
card-edifice he was raising. Seeing the caution with which the 
young prisoner was placing each card, Simon bent over the 
table and blew upon the castle, which instantly fell. 

" Eh, Capet, what do you say to my breath?" said he, with a 
savage laugh. 

" I say that the breath of God is more mig^hty still,'' answered 
the ehild, 



The next day the surgeon repeated his visit : but let us for a 
moment try to realise the scene which the prisoner's apartment 
presented. It was one of two compartments, the first of whicli 
served as an antechamber, communicating with the next by an 
aperture in the partition ; its only furniture a stove. In the 
second, which was lighted by a window secured with thick iron, 
bars, were a large table, a small square one, some straw chairs, 
and two beds without curtains, in one of which lay the sick wife 
of Simon. 

Several men were smoking and drinking round the larger- 
table, and were already intoxicated. A poor little child^ pale and 
haggard, was seated near the window at the smallest table. With 
his weak emaciated hands he was building* a castle of cards, but 
his tearful eyes hardly followed the movement of each card as it 
rose or fell. His pallid countenance had but one expression, that 
of sorrow, and at times terror. Alas ! who could have recognised 
in this miserable little creature the once charming child — so g^ay, 
so mirthful, so delicately neat, so graceful? Not only had his 
mourning, which he had worn since his father's death, been 
taken off him, but his hair, his beautiful fair hair, whose cluster^ 
ing curls had been so often fondly stroked and carefully arranged 
by a mother's hand, had fallen under the pitiless scissors of the 
woman who deemed she was thus depriving him of the last 
remaining relic of royalty. A woollen shirt, a coat and trousers 
of coarse red cloth, had replaced the silk and velvet, the cambric 
and lace, of days gone by. 

" Well, Citizen Naudin," said one of the municipals, as the 
surgeon, with an involuntary stolen glance towards the place 
where the young king was seated, approached the sick woman's 
bed — ^'Well, Citizen Naudin, an^r news to-day?" 

"You might have learned that from the cannonading," re- 
plied the doctor. 



"Ah, citizen, a republic is a fine thing — always something' 
•stirring'," said Simon, now so drunk as to be scarcely able to- 
stand. ^' Apropos — is there any new^s of the ex-queen, the she- 

" She was removed from the Temple to the Conciergerie the 
Hd of this month, '^ was the answer. 

The name of his mother having* instantly brought the child to 
^imon^s side in the hope of hearing something of her fate, he 
said to him, '^ Do you remember your mother, Capet?"' 

" Remember her ! '"' exclaimed he, tears springing to his eyes — 
^^ remember her ! I see her now : I have her before me yet, my 
poor mother. I hear her saying, as they were tearing me from 
her arms, ^ Forget not, my child, forget not a mother who loves 
you better than life. Be prudent, gentle, and virtuous.' Simon," 
continued the child of Marie Antoinette, the hot tears falling 
from his eyes — " Simon, you may beat me, you may kick me ; I 
will do anything you wish ; I will love you, if you wdll only 
speak to me of my mother. You never speak to me of her." 

" I would desire nothing- better, Capet," answ^ered Simon ; 
^^ and as a beginning I will sing you a song that the Sans- 
Culottes have just made upon her." Then, with a hoarse discor- 
dant voice, he began to roar out a couplet, every word of which 
was a vile slander upon the unhappy queen. The poor child re- 
coiled with horror. But holding him fast by the coat, Simon 
continued — " What ! you little cub, you ask me news of your 
mother, and now you refuse to listen. You shall not only listen, 
but sing too." 

"Never; no, never. You shall kill me first/' said the child, 
struggling to escape from his grasp. 

"Well, if you will not sing, you shall join in a toast. Citizens, 
fill your glasses ; it must be a bumper ;" and as he spoke he 
filled his own glass and those of his companions. " The repubhc 
for ever ! " 

" The republic for ever ! " shouted every voice but that of the 
child, who was now weeping bitterly. 

" Capet," said Simon, the moment he observed his silence ; 
" Capet, cry ' the republic for ever,' Come, let us have it." 

" No," said the child in a low but firm tone. 

" Oh, if you please, Capet." Louis made no answer. 

" I command you, Capet." The same silence on the part of the 

"Will you obey, wolf-cub ?" cried Simon, in a paroxysm of 
fury. " If you do not instantly cry ' the republic for ever,' I 
will knock you down, Capet ; I will knock you down." 

Without appearing the least intimidated by Simon's preparing 
to suit the action to the word, the young victim dried his tears, 
and gazing calmly and steadfastly upon his persecutor, said, 
" You may do what you please, sir ; but never will I utter those 
words." Immediately a piercing cry re-echoed through the 



vaults of the dung-eon. Simon had seized the unhappy child by 
the hair, and was holding* him up by it, crying", " Miserable 
viper, I know not what hinders me from dashing* you ag-ainsfc 
the wall \'^ 

"Scoundrel! what are you about?'' cried Monsieur Naudin^ 
indig-nantly ; and once more rescuing* the child from him, he 
placed him gently on his chair, whispering in his ear some little 
soothing- and caressing* words. " Sir," said the child, " you 
showed yesterday also much kind interest in me, and I was- 
thankful. Will 3^ou do me the favour to accept those two pears Z 
They were given me for my supper last night. 1 have no other 
way of showing that I am not ungrateful to you." Deeply 
affected, Monsieur Naudin took the fruit ; and as he respectfully 
kissed the hand of the little prisoner, his tears fell upon it. 

"The citizen Naudin must always have his joke," said Simon^^ 
sullenl}^ " I meant the child no harm." 

But neither suffering nor constant intercourse with these rude 
men had as vet had power to alter the noble disposition of the 
chilcl._ ' ^ 

" If the Vendeans v/ere to set you at liberty," asked Simon one 
day, " what would you do ? " 

" I would pardon you," was the instant reply. 

Could the most determined party-spirit — that spirit which has 
been well termed " a species of mental vitriol which men keep to 
let fly at others : but which, in the meantime, injures and cor- 
rodes the mind that harbours it" — could the most determined 
party-spirit behold this poor child, and hinder its tears from 
falling ? 



The queen survived her husband nine months, and they were 
months of the deepest sorrow. Separated from her son in 
the Temple, and afterwards conveyed to the Conciergerie, a 
prison of meaner pretensions, she there was made to endure the 
greatest indignities. Lodged in an apartment unwholesome 
from its dampness and impure odours, she was waited on by a 
^Py — ^ ^^^^ of horrible countenance, and hollow sepulchral voice. 
This wretch, whose name was Barassin, was a robber and mur- 
derer by profession. Such was the attendant chosen of the queeu 
of France. A few days before her trial he was removed, and a 
gendarme placed in her chamber, who watched over her night 
and day, and from whom she was not separated, even when in 
bed, but by a ragged curtain. In this melancholy abode Marie 
Antoinette had no other dress than an old black gown, stockings 
with holes, which she was forced to mend frequently, and she 
was utterly destitute of shoes. 

To relieve the difficulty of substantiating charges against the 



queen at her trialj Hebert conceived the infamous idea o£ wring"- 
ing from her son revelations which would criminate his mother. 
As the boy was too young to admit of his appearing as a witness 
before the tribunal, and as it would have been impossible to 
make him charge his mother with imaginary crimes while in 
possession of his senses, it was resolved by Hebert and Simon to 
induce him to drink by a show of kindness, and to effect their 
purpose when he should become intoxicated. This diabolical 
scheme was forthwith put in execution. A deposition full of 
the most revolting confessions and accusations was carefully 
prepared and brought to the Temple. All that was necessary to 
complete it as an instrument to be laid before the tribunal, was 
the signature of the little captive king. 

On the morning of the 5th of October 1793, Simon and Hebert, 
with tvfo municipal officers, were breakfasting together in the 
prison in the company of the prince, from whose thick and 
rapid utterance, unusual loquacity, and flushed features, it was 
easy to perceive they had succeeded in intoxicating him. When 
it was thought he was sufficiently stupified b;^ liquor, Simon 
opened a large paper, and giving him a pen dipped in ink, he 
said — " Come, Capet, my boy ; let us see whether you can write. 
Just try if you can put your name at the bottom of this paper." 

^^ Let me read it first," replied the child, speaking* quite thick 
and hardly able to lift his head. 

'^ Sign it first and read it after ; but you must have a little 
more to drink. Here, take this one glass of Malaga." 

" You make me drink too much, Simon," said he, putting up 
his hand to his burnings brow ; " it disagrees with me, and be- 
sides I do not like wine — you know I do not." 

^^ It is well to be accustomed to everything*. Come, my boy, 
this one little glass of wine, and then you can write your name." 

'^ I w^ould rather do it than drink any more," replied the child, 
taking the pen and writing Louis-Charles of France at the bot- 
tom of the sheet that lay open before him ; then letting his head 
fall heavily on the table, he was carried to bed by Simon, where 
he lay for some hours in a heavy slumber. 

Fortified by the instrument so basely fabricated and subscribed, 
the revolutionary tribunal proceeded to try Marie Antoinette. 
The accusations were so odious that the Jacobin audience, bad as 
it was, was disgusted. Urged to answer if she had not attempted 
to pollute the mind of her son, the queen said with extraordinary 
emotion, " I thought that human nature would excuse me from 
answering such an imputation ; but I appeal from it to the heart 
of every mother present." This noble and simple reply affected 
all who heard it. To the general charges of interfering in politi- 
cal affairs, she showed that there was no precise fact against her, 
and that, as the wife of Louis XYL, she v/as not answerable for 
any acts of his reign. All was unavailing ; it had been deter- 
mined to put her to death, and she was accordingly condemned. 



Being- taken back to prison^ slie there passed in tolerable com- 
posure the night preceding her execution^ and on the morning of 
the following day, October 16, she was conducted to the scaffold. 
Her long hair, now w^hite as snow, she had cut off with her 
own hands. She was dressed in white ; and though depressed 
with a thousand conflicting emotions, she had an air which still 
commanded the admiration of all who beheld her ; and she 
ascended the scaffold with a step as firm and dignified as if she 
had been about to take her place on a throne bj the side of her 
husband. With the same nobility of soul did this much injured 
w^oman submit herself to the hands of the executioner and endure 
the stroke which deprived her of existence. 

The intelligence of the condemnation of his mother was not 
communicated to Louis-Charles, nor did he know of her death 
till some hours after it had taken place. On the morning of the 
execution he rose earlier than usual, for, depressed with melan- 
choly, he had spent a wretched night; and dressing himself, he 
sat down to wait the entrance of his keeper, who was later than 
usual at his post. Simon at last appeared with breakfast. As 
the door opened to admit him, the boy perceived a Savoyard 
with his back to the door smoking ; and at the moment Simon 
called to the man, " Citizen, will you help me to put this room 
in order 1 " 

"Willingly, citizen, I was looking for a job," said the man 
with an air of affected indifference ; and taking the offered 
broom, he began to sweep. 

" Simon," said the prisoner to his jailer, " I cannot eat any 
breakfast ; I am not hungry." 

There seemed to be something extraordinary about Simon him- 
self this day; a half-expression of remorse seemed to have taken 
place of the usually unvarying harshness of his countenance, and 
he carefully avoided meeting the restless glance of his victim. 

"What is the matter with you?" asked Simon in a more 
softened tone than he had ever yet been heard to use. " Are you 
ill this morning 1 " 

" No," said the young king, " but I have had such a horrid 
dream ; it is the second time I have dreamt it. The night before 
they took me from my mother, I dreamt that I was in the midst 
of a troop of wild beasts which wanted to tear me to pieces. I 
dreamt it again last night." 

" Oh, you must not mind dreams," replied Simon. 

"' That may be ; but, Simon, pray listen to me. I am so 
frightened — I know not why — but I am terrified ; take me to your 
shop, teach me to make shoes, I will pass for your son ; for 
I know,'' continued he, in a timid faltering voice, " oh, I knoiv 
they will not spare me any more than my poor father. They 
will kill me." 

Simon made no answer, but went out abruptly, slamming" the 
door after him. 


As Simon closed the door, Louis dragged his failings limbs to 
his usual seat in the window. The poor child already felt the 
symptoms of the malady which carried him oiF. He now per- 
ceived that the man introduced by Simon, instead of sv/eeping^ 
was from time to time gazing at him, and manifestly with tears 
in his eyes. 

" You weep as you look at me," said he, making an effort to go 
to him, but again falling back upon his seat — " you weep. Who 
can you be ? No one here has any pity for me." 

" A friend," replied the man in the low tones of caution. 

" And are you come to tell me of my mother ? Oh where is- 
she ? What is become of her ?" 

" Unhappy prince ! " said the pretended Savoyard with gasp- 
ing sobs. 

" Oh speak, sir, speak ! Is she ill ?" 

" They have killed her," said the man, 

" My mother ! — killed her ! " repeated the child with a cry of 

'•' Hush, hush, sir. This morning at half-past four." 

" As they did my father, upon the guillotine — as they did my 

And as the tears of the man prevented his reply, the poor 
child went on — " She so good, so good ! Oh, my God, have pity 
on me ! But of what did they accuse her 1 — what could they lay 
to her charge ? She who did nothing but good to every one. 
Mother! mother!" 

" They condemned her partly upon your testimony, sir ; upon 
what you told of her." 

^^ I — I— accuse my mother ! — T w^ho would lay down my life 
sooner than a hair of her head should be touched. Believe me^ 
sir, you are mistaken." 

" Calm yourself, and listen to me," replied the stranger. 
'^ Some members of your family yet remain, and you may 
ruin them as you did your mother; nay, you may destroy 
yourself. Doubtless some insidious questions have been an- 
swered by you imprudently ; and upon words uttered by you, 
it may be at random, they have founded a charge against the 
queen of having plotted with some of the municipal officers 
against the constitution, and of carrying on a correspondence 
with foreign states. On this charge she was condemned^ 

The young king, who had almost held his breath as if the 
more distinctly to hear these killing words, now said, in a tone 
which despair rendered calm, " I am a w^retch ; I have murdered 
my mother. Never again shall a single word pass these guilty 
lips," So saying, he seated himself in his usual place at the 
little table under the window, and from that time till the end 
of eighteen months, and then only a few hours before his death, 
opened not his lips to utter a word. 




When Marie Antoinette had been conducted from the Temple 
to the Conciergerie, she left in that prison/ beside her son, her 
sister-in-law Madame Elizabeth, and her daughter Marie 
Therese. Before proceeding* farther with the history of the little 
captive king*, let us say a few words of these ladies his relations. 

Madame Elizabeth, whose whole life was an example of the 
tenderest affection, g-entleness, and female dignity, remained in a 
cell in the Temple till the 9th of May 1794. On the evening of 
that day she was transferred to the Conciergerie, charged with 
the oifence of corresponding with her brothers. The next even- 
ing she was carried before the revolutionary tribunal, and w^hen 
asked her name and rank, she replied with dignity, "I am 
Elizabeth of France, and the aunt of your king." This bold 
answer filled the judges with astonishment, and interrupted the 
trial. Twenty-four other victims were sentenced with her ; but 
she was reduced to the horrible necessity of witnessing the 
execution of all her companions. She met death with calmness 
and submission ; not a complaint escaped her against her judges 
and executioners. Without being handsome, Elizabeth was 
pleasing and lively. Her hair was of a chestnut colour, her 
blue eyes bore a trace of melancholy, her mouth was delicate, 
her teeth beautiful, and her complexion of a dazzling whiteness. 
She was modest, and almost timid in the midst of splendour and 
greatness, but courag-eous in adversity, pious and virtuous, and 
her character was spotless. 

The fate of Marie Therese, the daughter of Louis XVI., was 
less Cruel than that of her parents, her aunt, or her brother. She 
remained in confinement in the Temple till December 1795 ; never, 
however, being allowed to share the sorrows of poor Louis-Charles, 
and remaining in a state of constant apprehension. Undeter- 
mined what to do with the princess, the revolutionary government 
at length, at the above period, consented to exchange her for 
certain deputies whom General Dumouriez had surrendered to 
the Austrians. She was accordingly sent out of France, and was 
carried to Vienna, where she resided with her uncle (afterwards 
Louis XVIIL), by whom she was married to the Duke d'Angou- 
leme. She lived to return to France at the restoration. 

The revolutionary tribunals, which destroyed every one claim- 
ing relationship with royalty that fell within their grasp, did 
not even refrain fz^om taking the lives of servants and instructors 
of royal personages. Among the number of blameless and de- 
fenceless women who perished in this dreadful storm, was Madame 
de Soulanges, the abbess of Royal Lieu, who had been an in- 
structress to the aunts of Louis XVI. This excellent woman 



and her numerous sisterhood were led to the scaiFold on tlie 
same day. While leaving- the prison, they all chanted a hymn 
upon the fatal car. When they arrived at the place of execution, 
they did not interrupt their strains. One head fell, and ceased 
to join its voice with the celestial chorus ; but the strain conti- 
nued. The abbess suffered last ; and her single voice, with in- 
creased tone, still raised the devout versicle. It ceased at once 
• — it was the silence of death ! 



From some cause not recorded in the history of the revolution, 
Simon was dismissed by the municipal authorities from his office 
of tutor to the young king* ; but the change does not seem to 
have led to any improved treatment of the little prisoner. Hebert, 
likewise, was no more seen in the Temple : he had, like most of 
the revolutionary leaders, taken his turn under the guillotine, and 
received the punishment due to his manifold outrages on society. 

About thirteen months after the visit of the Savoyard, three 
persons presented themselves at the Temple prison, as visitors 
from the committee of public health, to verify statements which 
the municipal officers had deemed it their duty to make to it of 
the rapid progress of the disease of Louis XVII. The boy v/as 
in his usual place at his usual employment of building card- 
houses, his once expressive countenance now one dull blank. 
Even the heavy tread of the gentlemen as they approached him 
did not seem to excite his attention ; nor did the sight of such un- 
usual visitors arouse him from his apathy. Monsieur Harmand, 
advancing before his companions, approached the prisoner. " Sir," 
said he, taking off his hat as he stood before the innocent victim, 
" the government, informed of the bad state of your health, of 
your refusal to take exercise, to use any remedies, or receive the 
visits of a physician, and to answer any questions, nay, even to 
speak, has commissioned us to ascertain whether this is really 
the case. In the name of the government, we now renew the 
offer of a physician. We are authorised to permit your extend- 
ing your walks, to allow you any amusement or relaxation jou 
desire. Allow me to press upon you the acceptance of these in- 
dulgences. I await respectfully your reply.'' 

At the commencement of this address the unhappy child raised 
his eyes to the speaker, and seemed to listen with great attention ; 
but this was all — Monsieur Harmand did not obtain a single 
word in reply. 

" Perhaps I have not sufficiently explained myself, sir ; have 
not made myself understood by you ? I have the honour of ask- 
ing you if you would like playthings of any description — birds, 
a dog, a horse, one or two companions of your own age, to be 
iirst submitted to jou for approval ? Perhaps you would like to 



go now and tlien into the garden or on the ramparts ? Do you 
care to have sweetmeats or cakes, a new dress, a watch and 
chain ? Yon have only to say what you wish." 

The enumeration of all these things, usually the ohjects of 
childish desire, did not excite the slightest sensation. The 
prince's .countenance wore a look of utter indifference to all that 
was offered, and when the speaker ceased, there succeeded an 
expression of such sad, such melancholy resignation, that Mon- 
sieur Harmand turned away to hide his emotion. 

" I believe, sir," said one of the jailers, " that it is useless for 
you to talk to the child. I have now been nearly thirteen 
months here, and I have not yet heard him utter a word. Simon 
the cobbler, whose place I took, told me that he had never spoken 
since he made him sign some paper against his mother." 

This account, so simple yet so touching, went to the very 
hearts of the deputies of the commune. A child not yet nine 
years old forming and keepings a resolution of never again 
speaking, because a word of his had given a pretext to the 
murderers of his mother ! At this moment the young prince's 
dinner was brought up, and on its appearance the visitors could 
scarcely repress an exclamation of indignant surprise. For the 
delicately-reared son of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, for 
the child of royalty, the heir of France, was served up for dinner 
— "A brown earthenware porringer, containing a black broth 
covered with lentiles ; a dish of the same ware, with a small piece 
of black coarse salt beef ; and a second dish, on which were six 
half-burned chestnuts; one plate and no knife completed the 

Involuntarily they turned to look at the child ; his face ex- 
pressed " What matters it ! Take your victim." Was this resig- 
nation, or was it utter hopelessness ? How could he have hoped 
for anything from the murderers of his mother ? Alas ! had he 
hoped for anything at their hands, he would have been disap- 
pointed. The representations of the visitors were disregarded. 
His allowance of fresh air was diminished, his window was nar- 
rowed, the iron bars were made closer, and vf ashing, both of his 
person and his clothes, was thrown altogether upon himself. The 
door of his prison was, as it were, sealed, and it was through a 
narrow wicket that the pitcher of water, too heavy for his weak 
arms, was handed to him, with the sordid provision barely suffi- 
cient for the day. Not having strength enough to move his bed^ 
having no one to look after his sheets and blankets, now nearly 
in rags, he at length was reduced to the extreme of wretchedness. 

Condemned to solitude — for though two guards kept watch 
at the door, yet they never spoke to him — his intellect was at 
last impaired, and his body bent as if under the burden of life ; 
all moral sense became obtuse, and so rapidly did his disorder 
now gain ground, that the tardy aid of two physicians, sent by 
the municipal authorities, was utterly ineffectual to arrest its 




'ess. One of them could not restrain his indig^nation viheii 
he saw the state of the poor victim, and as he was audibly and 
in no measured terms giving* vent to it, the prince beckoned him 
to approach his bed. " Speak low, sir,'' said he, breaking a silence 
which he had persevered in for eighteen months ; " I pray, speak 
low, lest my sister should hear you, and I should be so sorry that 
she should know I am ill, it would grieve her so much.'' 



We have been telling no imaginary tale. The suiferings of 
Louis XVII. in his foul prison require no picturesque embellish- 
ment. Yet the mind of the compassionate reader may well be 
excused for doubting the truthfulness of these melancholy details, 
and will naturally inquire if no effort w^as made to rescue the 
unfortunate prisoner from his oppressors — if no humane hand 
interfered to point out his condition to the people. Nothing of 
this kind appears to have been done. A nation assuming itself 
to be the greatest, the most civilised, and the most polite, quailed 
under the despotism of a set of wretches elevated to a power 
which they disgraced. As M . Thiers forcibly observes, '^ People 
dared no longer express any opinion. A hundred thousand 
arrests and some hundreds of condemnations rendered imprison- 
ment and the scaffold ever present to the minds of twent^^-five 
millions of French.'' And thus the fate of poor Louis-Charles, 
if it did not escape notice, at least encountered no censure. 

The visit of the jjhysician, to which we have alluded, took 
place only after the reign of terror had subsided, and the nation 
had resumed something like its senses. But this resumption of 
order came too late to save the little captive king. The ph^^si- 
cian, on seeing* his deplorable condition, had him instantly 
removed into an apartment, the windows of which opened on the 
garden ; and observing* that the free current of air seemed to 
revive him for the moment, he said in a cheerful tone, "You 
will soon be able to walk and play about the garden." 

" I ! " said the prince, raising his head a little ; " I shall never 
go anywhere but to my mother, and she is not on earth." 

" You must hope the best, sir," said the physician soothingly. 

The child's only answer was a smile ; but what a tale of withered 
hopes, of buried joys, of protracted suffering*, was in that smile ! 

On the 8th of June 1795, about two o'clock, he made signs 
to those about him to open the window. They obeyed, and with 
a last effort he raised his eyes to heaven, as if seeking* some one 
there, softly whispered '^ Mother ! " and died. 

Thus expired Louis XVII. at the early age of ten years and 
two months. A more gentle soul never ascended to the bosom 
of its Creator. 



N STANCES of children having been left by accident 
or by unnatural parents to perish in solitary places, 
^v^ are unhappily to be met with in various eras of social 
[\ history. Sometimes the infants thus exposed have, by 
some extraordinary means, been preserved, and have lived 
in a savage condition till found by chance and brought 
within the pale of civilisation. It has occasionally happened 
V that beasts usually remarkable for ferocity have nurtured 
them until strong enough to subsist upon roots, berries, and other 
fruits. Children found under such circumstances have always 
been regarded with interest. Though painful to the last degree 
to behold a human being possessing all the characteristics of a 
wild beast, yet it has been pleasing and instructive to watch the 
gradual development of their faculties, and the growth of their 
moral sentiments. It is our purpose in this tract to record some 
of the most prominent of these cases, detailing the more interest- 
ing at length. Many accounts of wild children — for example, 
that of Valentine and Orson — are doubtless fabulous : it has been 
our care, however, to select such as are well authenticated. 

There is no instance on record which excited more curiosity, 
especially in England, than that of a child who was known as 


At the beginning of the last century, a great sensation was 
created by the accidental finding of a wild boy in a Gez^mau 
No. 48. X 


forest, to whom the above name was afterwards given. The 
earliest account of him is to be found in a letter from the Hano- 
verian correspondent of the St James's Evening" Post, published 
December 14, 1725. "The intendant of the house of correction 
at Zell/^ says the writer, " has broug*ht a boy to Hanover, sup- 
posed to be about fifteen j^ears of age, who was found some time 
ago in a wood near Hamelin, some twenty miles hence. He 
was walking* on his hands and feet, climbing* up trees like a 
squirrel, and feeding* upon grass and moss of trees.'^ The young- 
savag'e was brought to George I., who was at that time re- 
siding in Hanover. The king was at dinner, and some food 
was offered the youth, which he rejected. His majesty then 
ordered him such meat as he liked best ; and raw food having 
been brought, he devoured it with a relish. As he was un- 
able to speak, it was impossible to learn how he was first aban- 
doned in the woods, and by what means he existed. Great care 
was taken of the boy by order of the king ; but, despite the 
vigilance of those who had charge of him, he escaped in less 
than a month to the v/oods. Every species of restraint had been 
evidently irksome to him, and he availed himself of the first 
opportunity of freedom that occurred. The woods in the neigh- 
bourhood of Hanover were diligently searched, and at length he 
was discovered hiding in a tree. The boldest of his pursuers 
were unable to reach him, for as fast as they attempted to 
climb, he pushed them down, so great was his strength. As a 
last resource, they sawed down the tree ; luckily, it fell without 
hurting its occupant, and he was once more captured. 

Early in the following year (1726) George I. returned to 
England, and Peter was brought over also. His appearance in 
London excited intense curiosity. The public papers teemed 
with notices of his conduct and appearance. On arriving at the 
palace, a suit of blue clothes was prepared for him ; but he seemed 
very uneasy at wearing apparel of any sort, and it was only 
restraint that would induce him to wear it. Various colours 
and descriptions of costume were meantime provided, and at 
length his taste appeared to be gratified by a strange dress, 
thus described by a correspondent to an Edinburgh newspaper, 
April 12, 1726 : — " The wild youth is dressed in green, lined with 
red, and has scarlet stockings.'' By the same account, we find 
that he had been taught to abandon the use of his hands in 
walking, and to move about in an erect posture. " He walks 
upright," says the same authority, " and has begun to sit for his 
picture." On his first arrival, no inducements could persuade 
him to lie in a bed, and he would only sleep in a corner of a 

When in presence of the court, Petej* always took most notice 
of the king, and of the princess his daughter. The scene was so 
novel to him, and he so strange an object to those who saw him, 
that many ludicrous scenes took place, which are humorously 



related by Dean Swift in his amusing" account " of the wonderful 
wild man that was nursed in the woods of Germany by a wild 
beast, huntedj and taken in toils ; how he behaved himself like a 
dumb creature, and is a Christian like one of us, being* called 
Peter; and how he was brought to court all in green, to the great 
astonishment of the quality and gentry, 1726." From the droll 
character of the dean, he may be suspected of having overdrawn 
his account of the wild boy ; but we have carefully compared it 
with the current newspapers of the time, and hnd that in the 
main particulars he is correct. 

It appears that, after residing* many months within the pale of 
civilisation, the boy was unable to articulate words. He expressed 
pleasure by neighing* like a horse, and imitated other animal 
sounds. The king* placed him under the tuition of the celebrated 
physician of that day, Dr Arbuthnot, by whose instructions, it was 
hoped, the boy would, after a time, be enabled to express himself 
in words. On the 5th July 1726 he was baptised, at the doctor^s 
house in Burlington Gardens, by the name of " Peter." 

All attempts to teach this boy to speak were unavailing- ; and 
it was several years before his habits were at all conformable to 
civilised society. Finding* this impracticable, the king caused a 
contract to be made with a farmer in Hertfordshire, with whom 
he was sent to reside, and who put him to school ; but without 
any visible improvement. Instead of eating* the food provided at 
the farm table, he preferred raw vegetables, particularly cabbag*e 
leaves; though he was not long* in acquiring a taste for wine 
and spirits. His habits w^ere far from steady : he was constantly 
running* away from home, and cost his protector some trouble 
in reclaiming' him. On one of these excursions, he was arrested 
on suspicion of being a spy from the Scottish Pretender, whose 
army was then invading* England. As he was unable to 
speak, the people supposed him obstinate, and threatened him 
with punishment for his contumacy ; but a lady who had seen 
him in London acquainted them with the character of their 
prisoner, and directed them where to send him. In these excur- 
sions he used to live on raw herbage, berries, and young tender 
roots of trees. He took great delight in climbing* trees, and in 
being in the open air when the w^eather was line ; but in winter, 
seldom stirred from before the fire. 

After twelve years^ residence in Hertfordshire, Peter was re- 
moved to the care of another farmer in Norfolk, w^here he resided 
during the rest of his life. In the beginning* of June 1782, Lord 
Monboddo, the author of "Ancient Metaphysics," visited the 
half-reclaimed " boy," for by that title he was designated even in 
his old age. He then resided at a farmhouse called Broadway, 
within about a mile of Berkhamstead. The pension which 
George I. had granted was continued by his successors, George 
II. and George III. '' He is," says his lordship, " low of stature, 
not exceeding five feet three inches ; and though he must now be 




about seventy years of age, he has a fresh healthy look. He 
wears his beard. His face is not at all ugly or disagreeable ; and 
he has a look that may be called sensible or sagacious for a savage. 
About twenty years ago he used to elope, and once, as I was told, 
he wandered as far as Norfolk ; but of late he has become quite 
tame, and either keejDS the house, or saunters about the farm. He 
was never mischievous, but had that gentleness of manners 
which is characteristic of our nature, at least till we become car- 
nivorous, and hunters or warriors.^' 

Peter had always been remarkable for his personal strength ; 
and even in his old age, the stoutest young countrymen were 
afraid to contend with him in athletic exercises. To the last, his 
passion for finery continued ; and anything smooth or shining- in 
the dress of a visitor instantly attracted his attention. '^ He is,'* 
remarked a correspondent of Lord Monboddo, " very fond of fire, 
and often brings in fuel, which he would heap up as high as the 
fireplace would contain it, Avere he not prevented by his master. 
He will sit in the chimney corner, even in summer, while they 
are brewing with a very large fire, sufficient to make another 
erson faint who sits there long-. He will often amuse himself 
y setting -Rve or six chairs before the fire, and seating himself 
on each of them by turns, as the love of variety prompts him to 
change his place. He is extremely good-tempered, excepting in 
cold and gloomy weather ; for he is very sensible of the change of 
the atmosphere. He is not easily provoked; but when made 
angry by any person, he would run after him, making- a strange 
noise, with his teeth fixed into the back of his hand. I could not 
find that he ever did any violence in the house, excepting vvhen 
he first came over, he would sometimes tear his bedclothes, to 
which it was long before he was reconciled. He has never, at 
least since his j)resent master has known him, shown any atten- 
tion to women, and I am informed that he never did. Of the 
people who are about him, he is particularly attached to his 
master. He will often go out into the field with him and his 
men, and seems pleased to be employed in anything that can 
assist them ; but he must always have some person to direct his 
actions, as you may judge from the following circumstance. 
Peter was one day engag-ed with his master in filling a dung- 
cart : the latter had occasion to go into the house, and left Peter 
to finish the work, which he soon accomplished. But as Peter 
must be employed, he saw no reason why he should not be as 
usefully occupied in emptying the cart as he had before been in 
filling it. On his master's return, he found the cart nearly emptied 
again, and learned a lesson by it which he never afterwards 

Nothing further can be gleaned respecting " Peter the wild 
boy," except that he did not long survive the visits of Lord 
Monboddo and his friend. He died at Broadway farm in February 
1786, at the supposed age of seventy-three. 



More interesting' than the history of Peter the wild boy, is 
that of 


One evening in the autumn of 1731, the villagers of Soigny, 
near Chalons, in the north-east of France, were engaged in a 
little festival, or diicasse, Avhen their merriment was interrupted 
by the sudden appearance of a wild animal in human form. Its 
hair was long, and floated over its shoulders. The rest of the 
form was black, and nearly naked, and in the hand Avas wielded 
a short thick club. The terrified peasants mistook it for an evil 
spirit, and, not daring to attack it themselves, let loose a huge 
dog, having a collar surrounded with iron spikes, which they 
kept for the protection of the village against marauders. The 
strange figure, so far from flying, stood at bay, and awaited 
the attack of its assailant without a sign of fear. The dog, 
furiously set on by the peasants, made a sudden spring at the 
intruder's throat; but one violent and dexterously -dealt blow 
from the cudgel laid the beast dead on the spot. The wild crea- 
ture then turned, crossed the fields at a rapid pace, and, darting 
into the forest whence it had at first emerged, climbed a tree 
with the activity of a squirrel. The villagers were too fright- 
ened to follow it, and all traces of the alarming visitor were 
lost for several days. 

Meanwhile the proprietor, or seigneicr, of the estate of which 
Soigny formed a part, having heard of the adventure, caused 
search to be made in every part of the wood ; but without effect. 
In about a week, however, one of his servants perceived in the 
orchard of the chateau during the night a strange-looking figure 
mounted on a well-laden apple tree. The domestic, having more 
courage than the villagers, approached the tree stealthily ; but 
ere he could reach it, the creature sprang into another, and passing 
from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, at length escaped 
from the orchard, and fled to the summit of a high tree in a neigh- 
bouring grove. The servant awoke his master, who instantly 
arose, ordered up all his household, and sent one to the village to 
desire the assistance of some of the peasants. They all assembled 
at the foot of the tree, determined to prevent the escape of this 
singular being, who made every efl'ort to conceal itself amidst the 
foliage, though without being able wholly to escape observation. 

The villagers at once recognised it as the "evil spirit" who 
had killed their dog, while Ihe Seigneur de Soigny was able 
to distinguish that the creature resembled a young girl, and ex- 
plained, to quiet the fears of the peasants, that she was in all 
probability some unhappy maniac who had escaped from confine- 
ment, and whom thirst (for the weather was oppressively warm) 
had driven from her haunts in the forests. 

They continued to watch all that night and part of the follow- 


ing" day, wlien Madame de Soignj proposed that a pail of water 
should be placed at the foot of the tree, and that the people 
should retire, so as to induce the maniac to descend. The strata- 
gem succeeded. After some hesitation the creature came down, 
and eagerly approached the pail to drink, which she did like a 
horse — plunging her face into the water. The bystanders im- 
mediately rushed forward to secure her; but did not without 
much difficulty. Both her fingers and toes were armed with 
long and sharp nails, and she used them with great address and 
perseverance against her assailants : but after some trouble, they 
captured and conveyed her to the chateau. 

She was taken into the kitchen. It happened that the cook was 
preparing some fowls for the spit ; and on seeing them, the girl 
broke away from her captors, seized, and, though raw, devoured 
them with avidity. It was evident, from the quantity she ate 
and the eagerness with which she swallowed it, that she had not 
tasted food for a long time. Her appetite once satisfied, she 
looked around, and without betraying any lively signs of curio- 
sity at the surrounding objects, evinced by her actions and coun- 
tenance that they were quite strange to her. She appeared to be 
from twelve to thirteen years of age, and the blackness of her 
skin arose partly from constant exposure, and partly from dirt. 
She uttered no articulate sounds, but occasionally made a loud 
and unpleasant noise with her throat. 

Monsieur de Soigny and his wife were for some time at a loss 
to know what to do with their extraordinary guest. During the 
rest of the day, she manifested the utmost impatience at the 
restraint she was placed under, and showed every desire to escape 
to the forest. At night, she refused to eat the food which was 
offered her, because, probably, it had been cooked ; and could not 
by any inducement be persuaded to lie on a bed. All attempts to 
clothe her were equally useless. 

By dint of management, however, and constant attention from 
Madame de Soigny and her household, the young wild girl 
became gradually reconciled to her new state. Her repugnance 
to clothing and to dressed food was gradually overcome, and 
after the lapse of a month, it was found practicable to allow her 
to range about the chateau unattended ; for her desire to escape 
appeared to have left her. In a little time longer, it was thought 
advisable to take her out of doors ; for the sudden and complete 
change in her mode of life was injuring' her health. This was 
rather a hazardous experiment, and her host took care to be well 
attended while accompanying her. The moment she got into 
the fields, she set off, running with a speed which was truly 
astonishing, and not one of the part}^ could keep up with her on 
foot ; but De Soigny being on horseback, managed to keep her 
within sight. After a time, she came to the brink of a small lake. 
Here she stopped, and, divesting herself of her clothes, plunged 
into the water. Her host began to dread she had endeavoui^ed 



to escape from liim by self-destruction ; but on arriving' at tbe 
pond, lie was gratified to find her swimming about with the 
greatest ease and dexterity. Soon, however, his fears were 
again awakened, for she dived and remained under water so 
long", that he gave her up for lost. He was in the act of pre- 
paring himself for an attempt to save her, when to his relief she 
again appeared on the surface, gracefully shaking the water from 
her long hair. As she approached the shore, something was 
perceived in her mouth which glistened in the sun; and on 
coming out of the water, De Soigny was astonished to find that, 
during her long dive, she had employed herself in catching* a 
fish, which she devoured on the shore. Having resumed her 
apparel, she returned home peaceably with the domestics, whom 
they met on their way back. 

It was long before the girl could be taught to make articu- 
late sounds, which was the more singular, as there was scarcely 
any of the noises peculiar to a forest which she could not imitate. 
She occasionally amused her new companions by copying the 
cries of wild animals and of birds so exactly, that there was no 
difficulty in recognising the beast or bird she was imitating*. 
The song of the nightingale, however, was beyond her powers, 
for she never attempted to imitate that. From all these facts, it 
was concluded that she was not, as at first conjectured, an 
escaped maniac, but some unfortunate being who had been 
abandoned in infancy, and had managed to subsist in the woods 
in a perfect state of nature. 

Great pains were taken to teach her to speak, and after much 
perseverance, they were crowned with success. It was noticed 
that, as she improved in speaking, the feelings and ideas belonging 
to her early habits left her ; and it was unfortunate that, in pro- 
portion as her ability to communicate her early history increased, 
new feelings and new mental resources impaired her memory of 
her old way of life. Still some of the most important facts con- 
nected with her former existence she retained ; the most striking 
and interesting of them being the one which led to her capture. 

All that she could remember, when able to speak well enough 
to be understood, was, that she had lived in the woods as long as 
her memory could trace, with, up to a very recent period, a com- 
panion about her own age, supposed to have been a sister. 0£ 
her parents, her recollections were extremely indistinct. The 
idea she communicated regarding them was something like 
this : — That they lived near the sea-shore, and collected sea-weed 
for manure. In the winter, she and her companion covered 
themselves with the skin of some animal they had previously 
slain for food ; but in the summer, they had no other covering 
than a girdle. To this she suspended the only weapon she ever 
possessed — the short strong cudgel with which she so promptly 
slew the village watch-dog. In speaking of this cudgel, she inva- 
riably applied to it the word which signifies a wild boar's snout 



(houtoir), to whicli in shape it had some remote resemblance. It 
was to her an important weapon, for with it she killed such wild 
animals as afforded her sustenance. One remarkable but not 
very pleasing trait in her past history was her fondness for 
blood, and particularly that of hares. Whenever she caug-ht a 
hare, she did not kill it at once, but opening a vein with her 
sharp nails, sucked the blood and threw away the carcass. This 
fondness for hares' blood did not wholly leave her in after life. 

Of her companion she remembered nothing except her death. 
They were swimming together, as near as could be understood, 
in the river Marne (which gives the name to the department 
in which the wood of Soigny is situated), when a shot from 
the gun of a sportsman — who perhaps mistook them for water- 
fowl — passed close to them. They instantly dived, and hav- 
ing swam for some distance under water, escaped into a part 
of the forest which was supposed to have been near to some 
village. Here they happened to find something (whether a 
chaplet or string of beads, could not be sufficiently made out}, 
which each wished to possess. In the struggle that ensued, 
the sister inflicted a sharp blow on the wild girPs arm, which 
was returned on the head with a stroke from the " boutoir,'' with 
so much violence, that she became, in the words of the narrator, 
" all red.'' This excited her sorrow, and she ran off to seek some 
remedy. It was difficult to make out the nature of the intended 
remedy ; still it was clear that some curative means was known 
to the young savage ; but whether gum, obtained from a tree, 
or the skin of a frog bound to the wound with strips of bark, 
could not, from the confused nature of the recital, be ascertained. 
Be that as it may, on her return to the spot where she had left 
her sister weltering in blood, she could nowhere find her. Her 
grief was now redoubled, and she sought every part of the 
wood in vain ; nor did she relax her search till coming suddenly 
upon the villagers at Soigny, whither she had wandered in the 
hope of quenching her thirst. The rest of her story is known. 
Her companion was never heard of more ; and it was thought 
that she must have been dragged away by a wolf to his den, and 
there devoured. The accident happened, as near as could be 
computed, about three days before the capture of the survivor 
near the chateau. 

In a very fev/ months the fame of Monsieur de Soigny's 
strange inmate spread to Chalons, and thence to Paris. De 
Choiseul, bishop of that diocese, w^ent expressly to Soigny to see 
her, and inquire into every particular concerning her. The 
result was, that he caused her to be removed into a convent. It 
must be owned that the inhabitants of the chateau were not dis- 
pleased at the change. The wild girl, despite her improvement, 
cost them much fear and anxiety. Her temper was ungovern- 
able, and easily roused, especially when within sight of or when 
spoken to by any of the male species, for whom she from the 


first entertained a decided aversion. This was the chief reason 
for the bishop recommending* her to he transferred to a convent, 
where none of the male sex would cross her path to vex her. 

Once within the walls of her new abode, the wild girl was im- 
mediately baptised, but by what Christian name, we have not 
been able to ascertain, the only title given to her from that period 
having been Mademoiselle Leblanc. The secluded nature of the 
place had no effect in taming her wild temper, so that low diet 
and frequent bleedings were resorted to. This treatment not only 
had a most prejudicial effect upon her health, but renewed her 
desire to return to the woods. Indeed, it was remarked that the 
more she was subjected to privation and restraint, the more 
forcibly her savage propensities returned. On one occasion, she 
showed that her thirst for living* animals had not wholly left her. 
A young lady, of a very blooming" and sanguine complexion, who 
resided at Chalons, had a great curiosity to see her, and was 
seated at dinner when she was introduced. There happened to 
be a chicken at table, and Mademoiselle Leblanc's eyes appearing 
wild and excited, the young lady offered her awing; but the 
girl refused it, and trembling with excitement, said with savage 
simplicity, " No, no, it is not that ; it is you I want." As she 
said these words, she appeared so very much inclined to seize the 
young lady, that her attendant removed her by force. 

During the confinement of the wild girl in the convent, the 
queen of Poland passed through Chalons on her way from 
Paris, on purpose to see her. Her majesty had the bad taste 
to order a sort of exhibition, in which the girl performed all her 
savage tricks : she was made to howl as she was wont in the 
forest, and a live hare was actually brought her to suck to death. 
This exhibition had nearly terminated fatally, on account of her 
invincible dislike to men. One of the queen's officers was silly 
enough to make some jesting approach to her. In an instant 
she seized him by the throat, and would assuredly have strangled 
him, but for the interference of the bystanders. 

After having remained some years in the convent, she became 
an object of such great curiosity to the Parisians, that M. de la 
Condamaine, the celebrated member of the Academy of Sciences, 
was commissioned to make a journey to Chalons to inquire into 
the particulars of the wild girl's life." On seeing her, and hearing' 
her story, he determined to remove her to Paris for the purpose 
of placing her in some religious house in that city. On arriving', 
however, it was found that her health was so severely impaired, 
that the discipline of a monastic institution would be far from 
beneficial. Condamaine, therefore, having succeeded in raising by 
subscription a fund for her support, provided an asylum for her 
near Paris, and proper persons to attend her. Towards the 
latter portion of her existence, few traces of the savage state in 
which she was found in Soigny remained ; at all events, if any 
existed; the ill health in which she spent the latter days of her 



life prevented her from inanifesting" tliem. Slie died at Paris in 
the year 1780, forty-nine years after her capture by Monsieur de 
Soig-ny, and in about the sixty-second year of her ag'e. 


Towards the end of the year 1798, a child who appeared to be 
about eleven or twelve years of ag-e, and who had several times 
before been seen in the woods of Caune, in France, seeking* acorns 
and roots, on which he subsisted, was caught by three sportsmen, 
who seized him at the moment he was climbing a tree to avoid 
them. They carried him to a neig-hbouring village, where he 
was placed under the care of an old woman, from whom he, 
however, found means to escape before the end of the week, and 
iled to the mountains, where he wandered about during- the 
winter, which was uncommonly severe, without any clothing" 
but a ragg-ed shirt. At night he retired to solitary places, but 
in the day approached nearer the houses and villages. He thus 
passed a roving life, till at length he voluntarily took refuge in 
a house in the canton of St Sernin. After being kept there 
two or three days, he was sent to the hospital of St Afi'ique, 
whence he was removed to Ehodez, where he remained several 
months. During his abode in these different places, he always 
seemed to be wild, impatient of restraint, and capricious, and 
constantly intent on getting away. 

How he was originally abandoned, no one ever discovered; 
but, from certain scars on various parts of his body, he was 
thought to have escaped from the terrors of the Revolution, 
during* which so many cruelties were perpetrated. From the tes- 
timony of the country people who lived near the woods in which 
he was found, he must have passed in absolute solitude seven 
years out of the twelve, which was supposed to be his age when 
caught in the woods of Caune. When he was first taken into 
society he lived on acorns, potatoes, and raw chestnuts, eating* 
husks and all. In spite "of the utmost vigilance, he was fre- 
quently near escaping, and at first exhibited great unwilling-ness 
to lie in a bed. His eyes were without steadiness and expression, 
wandering* from one object to another; and his voice was imper- 
fect, for he could utter only a guttural and monotonous sound. 
He seemed to be alike indifferent to the smell of the most deli- 
cious perfumes and the most fetid exhalations ; and his sense of 
feeling was limited to those mechanical functions occasioned by 
the di^ead of objects that might be in his way. 

But despite all these disadvantages, the young savage was by 
no means destitute of intelligence. During an intercourse of six 
weeks with society, he had learned to prepare his food with a 
great degree of care and attention. M. Bonaterre informs us 
that, during his stay at Rhodez, his employment was shelling 


kidney-beans, and tliat greater discernment could not have been 
shown by a person the most accustomed to the employment. 
As soon as the pods were brought him, he fetched a kettle, and 
arrang-ed his materials in the middle of the apartment in the 
most commodious manner possible, placing" the kettle on his 
right hand, and the beans on his left. The shells he opened, 
one after the other, with admirable dexterity, putting the good 
grains into the kettle, and throwing away the bad ; and if any 
grain happened to escape him, he took it up and placed it with 
the others. He formed a separate heap of the empty shells ; and 
when his work was finished, he filled the kettle with water, and 
placed it on the fire, on which he threw the empty husks, to in- 
crease the heat. 

In the year 1799 he was removed to Paris, and placed in the 
deaf and dumb institution, under the care of Madame Guerin 
and the superintendence of M. Itard, physician to the asylum. 
Beneficial results, from M. Itard's judicious treatment in ex- 
citing the dormant faculties of the strange patient, showed them- 
selves in three months' time. The touch by that time appeared 
sensible to the impression of all bodies, whether warm or cold, 
smooth or rough, soft or hard. The sense of smell was improved 
in a similar way ; and the least irritation now excited sneezing. 
From the horror with which he was seized the first time this 
happened, it was presumed that it was a thing altogether new to 
him. The sense of taste was improved in a still greater degree. 
The articles of food on which he subsisted for some time after his 
arrival in Paris were excessively disgusting: he dragged them 
about his room, and ate them out of his hand, besmeared with 
filth. So great was the change which had taken place in this 
respect, that he now threw away the contents of his plate if any 
particle of dust or dirt had fallen upon it; and after he had 
broken his walnuts with his foot, he cleaned them in the most 
careful manner. 

His new habits, and the tenderness that was shown him, at 
length began to inspire the youth with a fondness for his new 
situation. He likewise conceived a lively attachment for his gover- 
ness, which he would sometimes testify in the most affectionate 
manner. He could never leave her without evident uneasiness, 
nor meet her again without expressing his satisfaction. Once 
after he had slipped from her in the streets, on again seeing her 
he burst into tears. For several hours he appeared much de- 
jected, and Madame Guerin having then gently reproached him, 
his eyes again overflowed with tears. As in all similar cases, 
the endeavours to excite the faculty of speech were almost futile, 
and never advanced him beyond the capability of uttering a few 
exclamations and unimportant words. Neither did his sense of 
hearing improve much. 

Some traits this boy exhibited were amusing*. " When fatigued,'' 
says a contemporary account, " with the length of the visits of 



inquisitive strangers, he dismisses tliem with more frankness than 
politeness J presenting' to each, but without an air of contempt, 
their cane, gloves, and hat, then pushing them gently towards 
the door, which he shuts after them with great violence. This 
kind of language Victor understands, when employed hy others, 
with the same facility as he uses it himself; and his readiness 
in this respect is truly astonishing, for it requires no previous 
instruction to make him comprehend the meaning of signs which 
he has never seen before.'' 

So far as we can learn, Victor remained in the same institution, 
hut whether he be there now, or indeed is still alive, we have not 
been able to ascertain. 


Of all the cases of abandoned children, none ever created a 
greater sensation than that of a youth who was left at the gate 
of the city of Nuremberg, in Germany, so recently as 1828. 

On the Whit-Monday, which happened in that year on the 
26th May, a citizen who lived at Unsehlitt Place, near the little 
frequented Haller gate of Nuremberg, was loitering before his 
door between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, when he 
remarked at a little distance a young man in a peasant's dress. 
He was standing in the singular posture of a person endeavour- 
ing to move forward, without being fully able either to stand 
upright or to govern the movement of his legs. On approach- 
ing, this singular stranger held out a letter directed to the cap- 
tain of the 4th squadron of the 6th regiment of Bavarian light 
horse. As this person lived near to the noAV gate, the citizen 
assisted the crippled youth to his house. On the door being 
opened, and the. servant inquiring the applicant's business, it 
was evident that he did not comprehend the inquiry. His own 
language was little else than unintelligible sounds, mixed with 
tears and moans ; but, with difficulty, the following words were 
made out : — " Reuta wahn, wie mei votta wahn is" — ('' I will be 
a rider or trooper, as my father was.") He was taken for a kind 
of savage ; and as the captain was from home, he was conducted 
to the stable, where he stretched himself on the straw, and soon 
fell into a profound sleep. Upon the return of the captain, it was 
with great difficulty that he could be awakened. When fully 
conscious, he gazed intently on the officer's glittering uniform, 
which he seemed to regard with childish satisfaction, and in- 
stantly groaned out, " Reuta," &c. The captain then read the 
letter, which was from an unknown hand, wishing that the youth 
should be received into the captain's troop of light horse. It was 
written in German ; but enclosed was a memorandum in Latin, 
which the writer of the letter declared he had received when the 
boy, then a baby, was left at his house on the 7th of October 
1812. The memorandum ran thus: — '^ The child is already 



baptised. You must give him a surname yourself. You must 
educate the child. His father was one of the lig'ht horse. When 
he is seventeen years old, send him to Nuremberg- to the 6th 
reg-iment of light horse, for there his father also was. I ask for 
his education imtil he is seventeen ^^ears old. He was born on 
the 30th April 1812. I am a poor girl, and cannot support him. 
His father is dead.'^ 

Neither of the epistle nor the enclosure could the captain make 
anything, and consequently handed his extraordinary^ visitor 
over to the police, which was done by about eight o'clock in the 
evening. When in the guard-room, in which were several in- 
ferior magistrates and police soldiers, he betrayed neither fear, 
confusion, nor astonishment. He continually cried, and pointed 
to his tottering feet; and this, joined to his childish demeanour, 
excited the pity of the officials. A soldier brought him a piece 
of meat and some beer, but he rejected them with abhorrence, 
partaking simply of bread and water, which he appeared to do 
with a relish. The usual official questions of. What is your 
name 1 Whence came you 1 Produce your passport ? were put to 
the youth in vain. The magistrates began to suspect that he 
was playing a part, and this suspicion was soon greatly con- 
firmed. A bystander proposed trying if he could write ; and 
pen, ink, and paper, were placed before him, which appeared to 
give him pleasure. He took the pen in his hand, by no means 
awkwardly, and, to the astonishment of the spectators, began to 
write ! He slowly and legibly traced the words '^ Kaspar Hauser." 
All was doubt and uncertainty. It was doubtful whether he ought 
to be treated as an idiot or an impostor. However, for the present 
he was removed to the place appropriated to rogues and vaga- 
bonds — a tower near the guard-house. During this short wa}^ 
he sank down, groaning at almost every step. Walking seemed 
to be not only painful, but a motion with which he was quite 
unacquainted. Soon after entering the small apartment allotted 
to him, he lay down on a straw-bed and slept soundly. 

A close scrutiny of this strange being's attire increased the asto- 
nishment. It consisted of a peasant's jacket over a coarse shirt, 
a groom's pantaloons, and a white handkerchief marked K. H. 
The contents of his pockets created the greatest surprise. They 
consisted of coloured rags, a key, a paper of g-old sand, a small 
horn rosary, and several religious tracts. An examination of his 
person presented new grounds for surprise. The soles of his feet 
were as soft as the palms of his hands ; but were covered ail 
over with blisters, which fully accounted for the pain which 
walking seemed to give him. His gait was that of a child learn- 
ing to walk in leading-strings ; indeed he could not walk at all 
without assistance. To account for this, his knees were atten- 
tively examined, when it was found that the joint, instead of 
being a protuberance when the leg' was straightened, formed a 
sort of hole or depression ; while at the back, his hams so nearly 



touclied the gTound, that a common playing" card could scarcely 
be thrust between. 

After a time, Caspar was no long-er kept in the tower, but was 
admitted amongst the family of the prison keeper, Pliltel, of 
whose children he seemed very fond. About a fortnig-ht after 
his arrival, he was visited by a young college professor, Daumer, 
who eventually, with the concurrence of the city authorities, took 
Caspar to his own home to educate him. The professor soon dis- 
covered that his mental powers only required attention to be- 
come cultivated. He soon was able to speak intelligibly: and 
the first use to which he put his new accomplishment, was to 
make a deposition before the burgomaster of Nuremberg. Not to 
cause him embarrassment, however, Mr Binder, the burgomaster, 
abandoned legal forms, and had Caspar to his house, so as to get 
Mm to converse freely, and without restriction, concerning his 
previous history. From these conversations he drew up a docu- 
ment, of which we give an abridgment. Caspar declared that he 
knew not who he was, nor where his home is. As long as he can 
recollect, he had constantly lived in a sort of hole, which he some- 
times called a cage, where he always sat upon the ground, with 
his back supported in an erect posture (this was fully corro- 
borated by the state of his knees). The only human being he 
had ever seen, up to the time of his arrival in Nuremberg, was 
^^ the man," as he said, " with whom I have always been ;" whose 
face he had never seen. He knew no difference between day and 
night ; but whenever he awoke from sleep, he found a loaf of 
bread and a pitcher of water beside him. Shortly before his 
removal, "the man" placed a small table over his feet, and 
spreading something white upon it (paper), he put a kind of 
stick between his fing-ers (proved to have been a lead pencil), 
and guided his hand in making black marks, which pleased 
him very much. The man came every day to guide his hand ; 
and by imitating the marks thus made, after the man was gone, 
Caspar learned, it would seem, to write his name. As to speaking, 
all he was ever taught to say was " Reuta," &c. Finally, tjfie 
man came one day, placed his hands over Caspar^s shoulders, and 
carried him on his back out of his prison, and made him try to 
walk; but "it became night" — that is, he fainted with the 
effort ; and at last he brought him to the gate of Nuremberg. 

This extraordinary account increased the mystery. The story 
of Caspar spread not onl}^ over Germany, but throughout Europe. 
Many thought him an impostor. He was examined by the 
faculty, by law officers, and by every competent person who 
imagined they could find a clue to the mystery. Meanwhile he 
continued under the tutorship of Professor Daumer, and made 
very great improvement ; though his new state of existence was 
extremely distasteful to him, and he longed to go back to " the 
man with whom he had always been." He suffered from head- 
ache. The operation of his senses, from their extreme acuteness^ 



gave him pain rather than pleasure. He soon learned to talk 
like a child^ for his memory was very ^ood. As an instance of 
it, Dr Osterhausen, an eminent physician, g'ave him a nosegay, 
naming the different flowers : several days afterwards, other 
flowers were brought him, and all of the same kind as those 
which composed the former nosegay he named correctly. At an 
early stage of instruction, he exhibited a great love of order, and 
was extremely obedient. In short, he in less than a year became 
nearly reconciled to his new position, and was allowed to go 
about with little restraint. 

On Saturday, 17th October, Caspar was the subject of an 
extraordinary and nearly fatal event. He was accustomed, 
daily between eleven and twelve, to leave Professor Daumer's 
house to attend a ciphering class ; but on the above day, not 
feeling well, he was desired to remain at home, while his host 
went out to take a walk. A little after twelve, Daumer^s 
sister was sweeping the house, when she observed on the stairs 
several spots of blood and bloody footsteps. These marks she 
traced along the passage to a closet, and there, to her hor- 
ror, beheld a large quantity of clotted blood. She instantly 
called her mother. In great alarm, they sought Caspar in his 
chamber, but he was not to be found either there or in any 
other part of the house. The marks of blood being more care- 
fully traced, were found to lead to a cellar door. This was opened, 
and after a time Caspar was found within, to all appearance 
dead, with a large wound across his forehead. The servant-maid 
and the son of the landlord had now joined them, and Caspar 
was removed to his chamber. He appeared to breathe, and 
presently gave a deep groan, saying with difficulty, " Man I 
man ! — mother tell professor — closet f he could say no more, for 
he was seized with a strong ague ; after which he lay senseless 
for forty-eight hours. In his delirium, he murmured at various 
times, ^' Man came ! — don^t kill me — I love all men — do no one 
anything. Man, I love you too — don't kill — why man kill V^ He 
was assiduously attended by the medical officer of the city juris- 
diction, and under his hands gradually recovered. When strong 
enough, the judicial authorities caused him to be examined as to 
his misfortune. From his deposition,'" it appears that, while in 
the closet, to which he had occasion to retire, he heard footsteps 
softly treading the passage, and presently the head of a person 
masked appeared. In an instant he received a severe blow 
on the forehead, which felled him to the ground: he fainted, 
and did not completely recover his senses till found in the 
cellar. How he got there, he was unable to remember cor- 
rectly, but thought that he must have been left for dead ; and, 
coming to a sort of half consciousness, had crawled thither, 

* It may be well to observe, that all the depositions respecting this 
extraordinary case are still preserved in the police court of Nuremberg. 



partly from fright, and partly from haYing* mistaken his way to 
Mrs Daumer's chamber. 

This new circumstance redoubled public curiosity respecting* 
Hauser. Some deep and diabolical mystery hung over him. It 
was evident that those who sent him to Nuremberg had been 
disappointed in his not becoming at once absorbed in the ranks 
of the army, and were aiVaid lest the attention of the pub- 
lic which jfie had excited would lead to the discovery of his 
origin. To prevent this, his murder must have been planned and 
attempted. These machinations were, however, on this occasion 
frustrated, for the wound was not so serious as to prevent his 
complete recovery. He resumed his studies, and pursued them 
with so much success, that he was not to be known in company 
from any other young man who had been brought up under 
ordinary circumstances. His temper was good, and his manners 
g-entle and amiable. 

While with Professor Daumer, he became an object of great 
interest to Earl Stanhope, who wished to have the entire charge 
and expense of his future education. With this view, Caspar 
was removed by that nobleman to Anspach, and put under the 
care of an able schoolmaster. After a time, he was found com- 
petent to undertake an official situation, and he received the 
appointment of clerk in the registrar's office of the Court of 
Appeal. It was Lord Stanhope's plan to accustom him, whilst 
filling this situation, to the ordinary business of life ; with the 
view of bringing him eventually to England, and of adopting 
him as his foster-son. But unhappily these benevolent in- 
tentions were frustrated, for the same mystery which shrouded 
his birth hung over his death. On the i7th of December 1833, 
Caspar Hauser, while returning from his official duties at mid- 
day, was accosted in the streets by a person who promised to 
impart to him the secret of his origin, if he would meet him in 
the park of Anspach Castle. Without informing his protectors 
of this circumstance, Hauser imprudently kept the appointment. 
The stranger was at his post; he took Caspar aside, and, without 
speaking a word, plunged a dagger into his breast, and instantly 
disappeared. Hauser had just time to reach the residence of his 
new tutor, into whose apartment he rushed, and had just breath 
enough to utter two or three indistinct words, when he imme- 
diately fainted. The police were instantly sent for ; but before 
its officers could return, Caspar Hauser expired. Every expedient 
which the police could invent was adopted to discover the mur- 
derer, but without success. The secret, which it cost so much 
crime to preserve, has not yet been divulged. 

This history is so strange and mysterious, that its authenticity 
would be open to many doubts, but for the unquestionable re- 
spectability of our informant, and the notoriety of the facts at 
the time. 



Not a flower 

But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, 

Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires 

Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, 

And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes. 

In grains as countless as the sea-side sands. 

The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth. 

Happy who walks with him ! whom what he finds 

Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flower, 

Or what he views of beautiful or grand 

In nature, from the broad majestic oak 

To the green blade that twinkles in the sun. 

Prompts with remembrance of a present God. — Cowpjsr. 


^^EAUTIFUL children of the woods and fields ! . 

yj That bloom by mountain streamlets 'mid the heather, 

S\£ Or into clusters 'neath the hazels gather — 
^n) Or where by hoary rocks you make your bields^ 

And sweetly flourish on throug^h summer weather— 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful flowers ! to me ye fresher seem 
From the Almighty hand that fashioned all, 
Than those that flourish by a garden-wall ; 
And I can image you, as in a dream. 
Fair, modest maidens, nursed in hamlets small — • 

I love ye all ! 
No. 49, ■ 1 


Beautiful g-ems ! that on the brow of earth. 
Are fixed as in a queenly diadem : 
Thoug*h lowly ye, and most without a name, 

Young hearts rejoice to see your buds come forthp 
As light erewhile into the world came — 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful things ye are, where'er ye grow ! 
The wild red rose — the speedwell's peeping eyes— 
Our own blue-bell — the daisy, that doth rise 

Wherever sunbeams fall or winds do blow ; 
And thousands more, of blessed forms and dyes— 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful nurslings of the early dew ! 

Panned in your loveliness by every breeze, 
And shaded o'er by green and arching trees : 

I often wish that I were one of you. 
Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas — 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful watchers ! day and night ye wake ! 
The evening star grows dim and fades away, 
And morning comes and goes, and then the day 

Within the arms of night its rest doth take ; 
But ye are watchful wheresoever we stray — 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful objects of the wild bee's love ! 
The wild-bird joys your opening bloom to see, 
And in your native woods and wilds to be. 

All hearts, to Nature true, ye strangely move ; 
Ye are so passing fair — so passing free — 

I love ye all ! 

Beautiful children of the glen and dell — 

The dingle deep — the moorland stretching wide^ 
And of the mossy fountain's sedgy side ! 

Ye o'er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell ; 
And though the worldling, scorning, may deride- 

I love ye all ! 



Let us go to the woods — 'tis a bright sunny day : 
They are mowing the grass, and at work with the hay. 
Come over the meadow and scent the fresh air, 
For the pure mountain breezes are everywhere. 



We'll follow this winding path up to the hills, 

And spring- with a lightsome foot over the rills. 

Up, up — it grows sweeter the higher we get, 

With the flowers of the season that linger here yet. 

Nay, pause not to gaze at the landscape now ; 

It is finer when seen from the high hill's hrow. 

We will gather all curious flowers as we go ; 

The sweet and the scentless, and those that bend low ; 

The pale and the gaudy, the tiny, the tall, 

"From the vine, from the shrub, we will gather them all. 

Now here's the Clematis, all graceful and fair ; 

You may set it like pearls in the folds of your hair. 

And if for your bosom you'd have a bouquet. 

Here's the Meadow-pink sweet, and the Touch-me-not gay. 

Here's the full-blown Azalea, perfuming the air. 

Here's the Cardinal-flower, that a princess might wear. 

And the wild mountain Phlox, pink and purple and blue, 

And Star-flowers both of white and of golden hue. 

And here's a bright blossom, a gay one indeed. 

Our mountain-maids name it the Butterfly-weed ; 

So gorgeous its colours, one scarcely can tell 

If the flower or the insect in beauty excel. 

Here's the low dwarf Acacia, that droops as it grows, 
And its leaves, as you gather them, tremble and close. 
And near us, I know hj her breath on the gale, 
Is the tall yellow Primrose, so pretty and pale. 

Here's the Pigeon-pea, fit for a fairy's bowers, 

And the purple Thrift, straightest and primmest of flowers. 

Here is Privet, no prettier shrub have we met ; 

And the Midsummer-daisy is hiding here yet. 

But stay — ^we are now on the high hill's brow ! 

How bright lie the fields in the sunlight below ! 

Do you see those white chimneys that peep o'er the grove ? 

'Tis your own little cottage, the home that you love : 

Let us go by the fields where the Chinquapins are. 

And through the long lane where the Chestnuts hang fair. 

They are scarcely yet ripe, but their tender green 

Looks lovely the dark clustering foliage between : 

And we'll stop at the nest that we found in the wood, 

And see if the blackbird hath flown vv^ith her brood : 

And we'll list to the mocking-bird, wondering thereat, 

Till he pauses, as if to ask, " Who can do that ?" 

We will listen and gaze, for the lowliest thing 

Some lesson of worth to the mind can brins:. 


If we read Nature's book with a serious eje, 
Not a leaf but some precious thoug'iit on it dotli lie : 
And 'tis good to go forth among* scenes like these, 
Amid music and sunshine, and flowers and trees, 
If 'twere only to waken the deep love that springs 
At the sight of all lovely and innocent thing's. 


Pair daffodils, we weep to see 
You haste away so soon ; 
As yet the early-rising sun 
Has not attained his noon : 
Stay, stay. 

Until the hastening day 
Has run 

But to the even-song ; 
And having prayed together, we 

Will go with you along ! 

We have short time to stay as you ; 
We have as short a spring ; 
As quick a growth to meet decay. 
As you or anything : 

We die, 
As your hours do ; and diy 

Like to the summer's rain, 
Or as the pearls of morning dew, 
Ne'er to be found again. 
-HEnmcK, 1648. 


Our sweet autumnal western-scented wind 
Kobs of its odours none so sweet a flower, 
In all the blooming waste it left behind, 
As that the sweet-brier yields it ; and the shower 
Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower 
One half so lovely ; yet it grows along* 
The poor girl's pathway, by the poor man's door. 
Such are the simple folks it dwells among ; 
And humble as the bud, so humble be the song. 

I love it, for it takes its untouched stand 
Not in the vase that sculptors decorate ; 
Its sweetness all is of my native land ; 
And e'en its fragrant leaf has not its mate 


Among the perfumes wliicli the rich and great 
Buy from the odours of the spicy East. 
You love your flowers and plants, and will you hate 
The little four-leaved rose that I love best, 
That freshest will awake, and sweetest go to rest X 


Come buy, come buy my mystic flowers, 
All ranged with due consideration, 

And culled in fancy's fairy bowers. 
To suit each age and every station. 

For those who late in life w^ould tarry, 
IVe Snowdrops, winter's children cold ; 

And those who seek for wealth to marry, 
May buy the flaunting Marigold. 

IVe Ragwort, Ragged Robbins too, 

Cheap flowers for those of low condition • 

F'or Bachelors IVe Buttons blue ; 
And Crown Imperials for ambition. 

For sportsmen keen, who range the lea, 

I've Pheasant's Eye and sprigs of Heather ;, 

For courtiers with the supple knee, 
IVe Parasites and Prince's Feather. 

For thin tall fops I keep the Rush, 

For peasants still am Nightshade weeding ; 

For rakes, IV'e Devil-in-the-Bush, 

For sighing Strephons, Love-lies-Bleeding. 

But fairest blooms affection's hand 

For constancy and worth disposes, 
And gladly weaves at your command 
A wTeath of Amaranths and Roses. 
-Mrs Corbold. 


When beechen buds begin to swell. 

And woods the blue-bird's warble know. 

The yellow violet's modest bell 

Peeps from the last year's leaves below. 

Ere russet fields their green resume, 
Sweet flower ! I love in forest bare 

To meet thee, when thy faint perfume 
Alone is in the virgin air. 


Of all her train, tlie hands of Spring* 
First plant thee in the watery mould, 

And I have seen thee blossoming 
Beside the snow-bank^s edges cold. 

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view 
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip, 

Has bathed thee in his own bright hue, 
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip. 

Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat, 
And earthward bent thy gentle eye, 

Unapt the passing view to meet. 

When loftier flowers are flaunting* nigh. 

. Oft, in the sunless April day, 

Thy early smile has stayed my walk, 
But, 'midst the gorgeous blooms of May, 
I passed thee on thy humble stalk. 

So they who climb to wealth, forget 
The friends in darker fortunes tried ; 

I copied them — but I regret 
That I should ape the ways of pride. 

And when again the genial hour 
Awakes the painted tribes of light, 

I'll not overlook the modest flower 
That made the woods of April bright. 


Not worlds on worlds in phalanx deep, 
Need we to prove a God is here ; 

The daisy, fresh from Nature's sleep. 
Tells of His hand in lines as clear. 

Por who but He who arched the skies, 
And pours the day-spring's living flood, 

Wondrous alike in all He tries. 

Could raise the daisy's purple bud ! 

Mould its green cup, its wiry stem, 
Its fringed border nicely spin, 

And cut the gold-embossed gem. 
That, set in silver, gleams within ! 

And fling it, unrestrained and free. 
O'er hill and dale, and desert sod, 
That man, where'er he walks, may see 
In every step the stamp of God. 
—Dii Good. 



READER ! hast thou ever stood to see 

The holly tree? 
The eye that contemplates it well perceives 

Its glossy leaves, 
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise 
As might confound the atheist's sophistries. 

BeloW; a circling* fence, its leaves are seen 

Wrinkled and keen ; 
No grazing cattle, through their prickly round, 

Can reach to wound; 
But as they grow where nothing is to fear. 
Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear. 

1 love to view these things with curious eyes, 

And moralise : 
And in this wisdom of the holly tree 

Can emblems see 
Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhymCj 
One which may profit in the after-time. 

Thus, though abroad, perchance, I might appear 

Harsh and austere ; 
To those who on my leisure would intrude, 

Reserved and rude ; 
Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, 
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree. 

And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, 

Some harshness show. 
All vain asperities, I, day by day, 

W ould wear away ; 
Till the smooth temper of my age should be 
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree. 

And as, when all the summer trees are seen 

So bright and green. 
The holly leaves their fadeless hues display 

Less bright than they ; 
But when the bare and wintry woods we see, 
What then so cheerful as the holly tree ? 

So serious should my youth appear among 

The thoughtless throng ; 
So would I seem, amid the young and gay 

More grave than they ; 
That in my age as cheerful I might be 

As the green winter of the holly tree, 




A BONNIE wee ilower grew green in the wuds, 
Like a twinkling wee star amang the cluds ; 
And the langer it leevit, the greener it grew, 
For 'twas lulled by the winds, and fed by the dew. 
Oh, fresh was the air where it reared its head, 
Wr the radiance and odours its young leaves shed. 

When the morning' sun rose frae his eastern ha', 
This bonnie wee flower was the earliest of a' 
To open its cups sealed up in the dew, 
And spread out its leaves o' the yellow and blue. 

When the winds were still, and the sun rode high, 
And the clear mountain stream ran wimplin' by, 
When the wee birds sang, and the wilderness bee 
Was floating awa', like a clud ower the sea, 
This bonnie wee flower was blooming unseen — 
The sweet child of summer — in its rockely green. 

And when the night clud grew dark on the plain. 
When the stars were out, and the moon in the wane. 
When the bird and the bee had gane to rest, 
And the dews of the night the green earth pressed. 
This bonnie wee flower lay smiling asleep, 
Like a beautiful pearl in the dark green deep. 

And when autumn came, and the summer had passed, 
And the wan leaves were strewn on the swirling blast. 
This bonnie wee flower grew naked and bare, 
And its wee leaves shrank in the frozen air ; 
Wild darnel and nettle sprang rank from the ground, 
But the rose and white lilies were drooping around ; 
And this bonnie blue flower hung doon its wee head, 
And the bright morning sun flung his beams on its bed. 
And the pale stars looked forth — but the wee flower was dead, 


In Eastern lands they talk in flowers. 

And they tell in a garland their loves and cares ; 
Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, 

On its leaves a mystic language bears. 

The Rose is a sign of joy and love — 

Young blushing love in its earliest dawn ; 

And the mildness that suits the gentle dove, 
From the Myrtle's snowy flower is drawn. 



Innocence sMnes in the Lily's bell, 
Pure as the heart in its native heaven ; 

Fame's brig-ht star and glory's swell, 
In the glossy leaf of the Bay are given. 

The silent, soft, and humble heart, 

In the Violet's hidden sweetness breathes ; 

And the tender soul that cannot part, 
A twine of Evergreen fondly wreathes. 

The Cypress that daily shades the grave. 
Is sorrow that mourns her bitter lot ; 

And faith that a thousand ills can brave, 
Speaks in thy blue leaves, Forget-me-not. 

Then gather a wreath from the garden bowers, 
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers. 


The milk-white blossoms of the thorn 

Are waving o'er the pool. 
Moved by the wind that breathes along 

So sweetly and so cool. 
The hawthorn clusters bloom above, 

The primrose hides below, 
And on the lonely passer-by 

A modest glance doth throw ! 

The humble primrose' bonnie face 

I meet it everywhere ; 
Where other flowers disdain to bloom, 

It comes and nestles there. 
Like God's own light, on every place 

In glory it doth fall : 
And where its dwelling-place is made, 

It straightway hallows all ! 

Where'er the green-winged linnet sings, 

The primrose bloometh lone ; 
And love it wins — deep love — from all 

Who gaze its sweetness on. 
On field-paths narrow, and in woods. 

We meet thee near and far, 
Till thou becomest prized and loved, 

As things familiar are ! 


The stars are sweet at eventide. 

But cold, and far away ; 
The clouds are saft in summer time, 

But all unstable they : 
The rose is rich — but pride of place 

Is far too high for me — 
God's simple common things I love — 

My primrose, such as thee ! 

I love the fireside of my home, 

Because all sympathies. 
The feelings fond of every day, 

Around its circle rise. 
And while admiring all the fiowers 

That summer suns can give, 
Within my heart the primrose sweet, 

In lowly love doth live ! 



Ye field flowers I the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, 
Yet, wildings of Nature, I dote upon you, 

For ye waft me to summers of old, 
When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, 
And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, 

Like treasures of silver and gold. 

I love you for lulling me back into dreams 

Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams. 

And of broken glades breathing their balm. 
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote. 
And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon's note 

Made music that sweetened the calm. 

Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune 

Than ye speak to my heart, little wildings of June : 

Of old ruinous castles ye tell, 
Where I thought it delightful your beauties to find, 
When the magic of Nature first breathed on my mind, 

And your blossoms were part of her spell. 

Even now, what affections the violet awakes ; 
What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes. 

Can the wild water-lily restore : 
What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks, 
And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks 

In the vetches that tangled their shore. 



Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart ye were dear, 
Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear, 

Had scathed my existence's bloom ; 
Once I welcome you more, in life's passionless stage, 
With the visions of youth to revisit my age, 

And I wish you to grow on my tomb. 
—Thomas Campbell. 




Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
For I maun crush amang the stoure 

Thy slender stem : 
To spare thee now is past my power. 

Thou bonnie gem. 

Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet. 
The bonnie lark, companion meet, 
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! 

Wi' speckled breast, 
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet 

The purpling east. 

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 

Amid the storm. 
Scarce reared above the parent earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, 
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield : 
But thou, beneath the random bield 

0' clod or stane, 
Adorns the histie stibble-field, 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread. 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise ; 
But now the share uptears thy bed, 

And low thou lies ! 

Such is the fate of artless maid, 
Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 



By love's simplicity betrayed, 

And guileless trust, 

Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid 
Low i' tlie dust. 

Sucli is the fate of simple bard. 

On life's rough ocean luckless starred : 

Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore. 
Till billows rag-e, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er ! 

Such fate to suffering w^orth is given. 

Who long w^ith wants and woes has striven •, 

By human pride or cunning driven, 

To misery's brink. 
Till wrenched of every stay but Heaven, 

He, ruined, sink ! 

Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate, 
That fate is thine — no distant date ; 
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate. 

Full on thy bloom. 
Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight, 
Shall be thy doom ! 


Flowers of the field, how meet ye seem 

Man's frailty to portray. 
Blooming so fair in morning's beam, 

Passing at eve away ; 
Teach this, and, oh ! though brief your reign, 
Sweet iiowers ye shall not live in vain. 

Go, form a monitory wreath 

For youth's unthinking brow ; 
Go, and to busy mankind breathe 

What most he fears to know ; 
Go, strew the path where age doth tread, 
And tell him of the silent dead. 

But whilst to thoughtless ones and gay, 

Ye breathe these truths severe. 
To those who droop in pale decay, 

Have ye no words of cheer ? 
Oh yes ! ye weave a double spell. 
And death and life betoken well. 



Go, then, where wrapt in fear and g-loora. 
Fond hearts and true are sig'hing^ 

And deck with emblematic bloom 
The pillow of the dying* ; 

And softly speak, nor speak in vain, 

Of the long" sleep and broken chain ; 

And say, that He who from the dust 
Recalls the slumbering' flower, 

Will surely visit those who trust 
His mercy and His power ; 

Will mark where sleeps their peaceful clay. 

And roll, ere long', the stone away. 
■Blackwood''s Magazine. 


Thy fruit full well the schoolboy knows, 

Wild bramble of the brake ! 
So, put thou forth thy small white rose ; 

I love it for his sake. 
Though woodbines flaunt and roses giow 

O'er all the fragrant bowers. 
Thou need^st not be ashamed to show 

Thy satin-threaded flowers ; 

For dull the eye, the heart is dull, 

That cannot feel how fair. 
Amid all beauty beautiful, 

Thy tender blossoms are ! 
How delicate thy gauzy frill ! 

How rich thy branchy stem ! 
How soft thy voice when woods are still, 

And thou sing'st hymns to them ; 

While silent showers are falling slow, 

And, 'mid the general hush, 
A sweet air lifts the little bough, 

Lone whispering through the bush ! 
The primrose to the grave is gone ; 

The hawthorn flower is dead ; 
The violet by the mossed gray stone 

Hath laid her weary head ; 

But thou, wild bramble ! back dost bring. 

In all their beauteous power. 
The fresh green days of life's fair spring. 

And boyhood's blossomy hour. 



Scorned bramble of the brake ! once more 

Tbou bidd^st me be a boy, 
To gad with tbee the woodlands o'er. 

In freedom and in joj. 


Fair flower, that lapt in lowly glade 
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade^ 

Than whom the vernal gale 
None fairer wakes on bank or spray, 
Our England's lily of the May, 

Our lily of the vale. 

Art thou that ^ lily of the field,' 

Which, when the Saviour sought to shield 

The heart from blank despair. 
He showed to our mistrustful kind, 
An emblem to the thoughtful mind 

Of God's paternal care 1 

But not the less, sweet springtide's flower, 
Dost thou display the Maker's power, 

His skill and handiwork. 
Our western valley's humbler child ; 
Where in green nook of woodland wild, 

Thy modest blossoms lurk. 

What though nor care nor art be thine, 
The loom to ply, the thread to twine ; 

Yet, born to bloom and fade. 
Thee, too, a lovelier robe arrays, 
Than e'er in Israel's brig'htest days 

Her wealthiest king arrayed. 

Of thy twin leaves th' embowered screen 
Which wraps thee in thy shroud of green ; 

Thy Eden-breathing smell ; 
Thy arched and purple-vested stem, 
Whence pendant many a pearly gem, 

Displays a milk-white bell ; 

Instinct with life thy iibrous root, 

Which sends from earth the ascending shoot^ 

As rising from the dead. 
And fills thy veins with verdant juice, 
Charged thy fair blossoms to produce. 

And berries scarlet red : 



The triple cell^ the twofold seed^ 
A ceaseless treasure-house decreed, 

Whence aye thy race may grow, 
As from creation they have grown, 
While spring shall weave her flowery crown, 

Or vernal breezes blow : 

Who forms thee thus with unseen hand, 
Who at creation gave command. 

And willed thee thus to be, 
And keeps thee still in being through 
Age after age revolving, who 

But the Great God is He ? 

Omnipotent to work his will ; 
Wise, who contrives each part to fill 

The post to each assigned ; 
Still provident, with sleepless care 
To keep ; to make the sweet and fair 

For man's enjoyment kind! 

" There is no God," the senseless say : — ■ 
" Oh God, why casf st thou us away ?" 

Of feeble faith and frail 
The mourner breathes his anxious thought— 
By thee a better lesson taught. 

Sweet lily of the vale. 

Yes ! He who made and fosters thee. 
In reason's eye perforce must be 

Of majesty divine ; 
Nor deems she that his guardian care 
Will he in man's support forbear, 

Who thus provides for thine. 
-Field Naturalises Magazine. 


The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, 
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. 
Heaped in the hollows of the grove the withered leaves lie dead ; 
They rustle to the eddying gust and to the rabbit's tread. 
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay. 
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. 

Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung 

and stood 
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? 



Alas ! tliey all are in their graves : the gentle race of flowers 
Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours. 
The rain is falling where they lie ; but the cold November rain 
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again. 

The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, 

And the v/ild-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow ; 

But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, 

And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, 

Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague 

on men. 
And the brightness of their smile w^as gone from upland, glade, 

and glen. 

And now, wdien comes the calm, mild day, as still such days 

will come. 
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, 
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees 

are still, 
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill. 
The south-wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he 

And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. 

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, 
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side : 
In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest cast the leaf, 
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; 
Yet not unmeet it was that one like that young friend of ours, 
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. 



MONGST those whose self-denying" hero- 
ism, in the midst of perils and personal 
privations, have shed a glory over female 
devotedness, Flora Macdonald has deserv- 
edly obtained a high meed of applause. 
This lady was the daughter of Macdonald 
of Milton, in South Uist, one of the re- 
moter of the Western Islands of Scotland. She was born 
about the year 1720, and received the usual limited education 
of the daughter of a Highland gentleman of that age. It 
conferred little school - learning, and scarcely any accomplish- 
ments, but included good moral principles, and the feelings and 
manners of a lady. When Flora was a girl, her father died, 
leaving his estate to a son. The widowed mother, being still 
young and handsome, was soon afterwards wooed by Mr Mac- 
donald of Armadale, in the Isle of Skye; but she long resisted 
all his solicitations. At length he resorted to an exj^edient 
which was not then imcommon in the Highlands, and was at 
No. 50. 1 


a later period more common in Ireland — he forcibly carried away 
the lady from her house, and married her. It is said that they 
proved a sufficiently happy couple ; though this of course does 
not justify the act by which the marriage was brought about. 

Flora, therefore, spent her youthful years in the house of her 
stepfather at Armadale. She grew to womanhood without ever 
having seen a town, or mingled in any bustling scene. The 
simple life which she led in the rugged and remote Isle of Skye 
was enlivened only by visits among neighbours, who were 
thought near if they were not above ten miles distant. The 
greatest event of her youth was her spending about a year in the 
house of Macdonald of Largoe, in Argyleshire — a lonely High- 
land mansion like her stepfather's, but one in which there was 
probably more knowledge of the world, and more of the style 
of life v/hich prevailed in Lowland society. This was not long 
before the breaking out of the rebellion of 1745. 

When Prince Charles Stuart came in that year to Scotlandj. 
to endeavour to regain the throne from which his family had 
heen expelled, he was joined by a great portion of the clan 
Macdonald, including nearly the whole of the Clanranald branch, 
to which Flora's father had belonged. Another large portion, 
who looked to Sir Alexander Macdonald of Sleat as their supe- 
rior, was prevailed upon by that gentleman to remain at peace ; 
for he, though a friend of the Stuarts, was prudent enough to 
see that the enterprise had no chance of success. Flora's step- 
father, as one of Sir Alexander's friends, was among those who 
refrained from joining the prince's standard; and it was pro- 
bably from his example that Flora's brother, young Macdonald 
of Milton, also kept quiet. Thus, it will be observed, Flora's 
immediate living relatives were not involved in this unhappy 
civil war ; but the branch of the clan to which she belonged was 
fully engaged, and she and her friends all wished well to the 
Stuart cause. 

Prince Charles Edward landed in Scotland on the 19th of 
August 1745. The place chosen for his disembarkation from 
the small vessel which had conveyed him from France, was 
Glenfinnin, a lonely vale at the head of Loch Shiel, in the 
western part of Inverness-shire, through which runs the small 
river Finnin.* Here having planted his standard, he was imme- 
diately attended by a band of Highlanders of different clans, 
with whom he forthwith proceeded towards the low country. 
His small irregular army, augmented by adherents from Lowland 
Jacobite families, passed, as is well known, throug^h a series of 
extraordinary adventures. After taking possession of Edin- 

^^ Tlie spot is now distinguished by a mbniimental pillar, erected by the 
late Mr Macdonald of Glenaladale, a young gentleman of the district, 
whose grandfather, with the most of his clan, had engaged in the unfor- 
tunate enterprise which it is designed to commemorate. 


burgh, it attacked and routed a fully equal army of regular 
troops at Prestonpa,ns. It marclied into England in the depth 
of winter, and boldly advanced to Derby, a hundred and twenty- 
seven miles from the metropolis. Then it retreated — turned 
upon and routed a second army at Falkirk, but at Culloden was 
finally broken to pieces by the Duke of Cumberland (April 16, 
1746). Prince Charles, escaping from the field, withdrew into 
the western parts of Inverness-shire, with the design of endea- 
vouring to get to France by sea ; while parties of the king^s 
troops proceeded to ravage the lands of all those v/ho had been 
concerned in the enterprise. 

The government, sensible of the dangerous nature of the 
prince's claims, had set a price of thirty thousand pounds upon 
his head. This was a sum sufficient in those days to have pur- 
chased a large estate in the Highlands ; and as the Highlanders 
were generally poor, it was thought that some one would, for 
its sake, betray the prince into his enemies' hands. Charles, 
aware of the danger in which he stood, very quickly assumed 
a mean disguise, in order to elude notice, and pursued his way 
almost alone. Disappointed in his first attempts to obtain a 
passage in a French vessel, he sailed in an open boat to the 
outer Hebrides, where, after some perilous adventures, he found 
a refuge in South Uist, under the care of the chieftain of Clan- 
ranald and his lady, who resided there at a place called Orma- 
clade. It has been mentioned that the Clanranald branch of the 
Macdonalds had been engaged in the insurrection. They had, 
however, been led out by the chief's eldest son, who alone, 
therefore, became responsible to the law, while the chieftain 
himself and the estate were safe. This enabled Clanranald and 
his lady to extend their protection to Prince Charles in his now 
distressed state. They placed him in a lonely hut amidst the 
mountains of Coradale in South Uist, and supplied all his wants 
for about six weeks, during which he daily hoped for an oppor- 
tunity of escaping to France. At length, his enemies having 
formed some suspicion of his retreat, the island was suddenly 
beset with parties by sea and land, with the view of taking him 
prisoner — in which case there can be little doubt that his life 
would have been instantly sacrificed, for orders to that effect had 
been issued. Clanranald, his lady, and the two or three friends 
who kept the prince company, w^ere in the greatest alarm, 
more particularly when they heard that the commander of the 
party was a Captain Scott, who had already become notorious 
for his cruelties towards the poor Highlanders. The first object 
was to remove Charles from his hut, lest exact information about 
it should have been obtained; the second was to get him, if 
possible, carried away from the island. But the state of affairs 
was such, that it was impossible for him to move a mile in any 
direction without the greatest risk of being seized by some of his 


At this period tlie Hebridean or Western Isles, in which the 
prince had taken refuge, were in a rude and almost primitive 
condition ; from which, indeed, they can scarcely now be said to 
have emerged. Extending in a range, with detached masses, for 
upwards of a hundred and fifty miles along- the west coast of 
Arg3de, Inverness, Ross, and Cromarty shires, to one or other of 
which they belong, they are generally difficult of access, and 
present the wild features of rocks, mountains, heaths, and mo- 
rasses in a state of nature, with occasional patches of cultivated 
land, and hamlets of an exceedingly rude construction. The in- 
habitants, who are of the original Celtic race, remain for the 
most part tenants of small farms and allotments, from which 
they draw a miserable subsistence, chiefly by the breeding of 
cattle for the Lowland markets. Although poor and illiterate, 
and with few residents amongst them belonging to the higher 
classes, they are distinguished for their orderly conduct, their 
patience under an almost perennial adversity, and, like all the 
Celtic people, for their attachment to their chief — a dignity now 
little better than nominal. In the main range of the Hebrides, 
Lewis is the largest island, and is situated to the north of 
the others. South from it lie in succession North Uist, Benbe- 
cula, and South Uist, the whole so closely environed and nearly 
connected by islets, that they are spoken of collectively as the 
Long Island. Opposite South Uist, on the east, lies Skye, one 
of the largest and most important of the Hebrides. It extends 
along the coast of Ross-shire in an irregular manner, and is 
remarkable for the boldness of its shores, and the grandeur of 
some of its mountains. The indentations of the coast furnish a 
great variety of natural harbours, the refuge of vessels exposed 
to the tempests of the w^estern ocean. The chief town in the 
island is Portree, and the principal mansion that of Dunvegan, 
the seat of the Macleods, who own the greater part of the isle. 
The southern district of Skye is called Sleat, or Slate. Skye is 
separated from the outer Hebrides by a strait or sound, from 
twenty to forty miles Vv^ide. Such, as w^ill be immediately seen, 
was the lorincipal scene of the wanderings and hairbreadth 
escapes of Charles Stuart. Fleeing from island to island, cross- 
ing straits in open boats, lurking in wilds and caves, attended 
by seldom more than one adherent, and assisted, when in the 
greatest extremity, by the heroic Flora Macdonald, did this 
unfortunate prince contrive to elude the grasp of his enemies. 

In South Uist, in which he had taken refuge with a single 
loUower named O'Neal, he was in continual danger from the 
parties on the watch for his apprehension, and for about ten days 
he wandered from place to place, crossing to Benbecula, and re- 
turning, sometimes making the narrowest escape, but with the 
faintest possible hope of finally eluding discovery. It was at 
this critical juncture that Flora Macdonald became accessory to 
his preservation. She was at the time paving a visit to her 



Lrotlier at his house of Milton, in South Uist. It also happened 
that her stepfather, Armadale, was acting as commander of a 
party of Skye militia amongst the troops in pursuit of the prince. 
Armadale, like many others, had joined that militia corps at the 
wish of his superior, the laird of Sleat : hut, in reality, he retained 
a friendly feeling towards the Stuarts, and wished anything 
rather than to be concerned in capturing' the royal fugitive. 
Such associations of feeling, with an opposite mode of acting, 
were not uncommon in those days. O'Neal, who had formerly 
been slightly acquainted with Flora, seems to have suggested 
the idea of employing her to assist in getting Charles carried off 
the island. 

One night near the end of June, he came by appointment to 
meet the young lady in a cottage upon her brother's land in 
Benbecula : the prince remained outside. After a little conver- 
sation, O'Neal told her he had brought a friend to see her. She 
asked with emotion if it was the prince, and O'Neal answered 
in the affirmative, and instantly brought him in. She was 
asked b}^ Charles himself if she could undertake to convey him 
to Skye, and it was pointed out to her that she might do this 
the more easily, as her stepfather would be able to give her a 
pass for her journey. The first idea of Flora was, not her own 
peril, but the danger into which she might biing Sir Alexander 
and Lady Margaret Macdonald, by carrying the fugitive to 
their neighbourhood. She therefore answered the prince with 
the greatest respect, but added, that she could not think of 
being the ruin of her friend Sir Alexander. To this it was 
replied, that that g'entleman was from home ; but, supposing 
it were otherwise, she could convey Prince Charles to her 
mother's house, which was conveniently situated on the sea- 
side, and the Sleat family was not necessarily to have any con- 
cern in the transaction. O'Neal then demonstrated to her the 
honour and glory of saving the life of her lavv^ful prince : it has 
been said that, to allay scruples of another kind, this light- 
hearted Irishman oiFered instantly to marry her. If such a pro- 
posal was really made. Flora did not choose to accept of it ; but, 
without farther hesitation, she agreed to undertake the prince's 

Pleased with the prospect which this frank and single-hearted 
offer presented, Charles and his friend O'Neal again betook them- 
selves to the fastnesses of Coradale, while Miss Macdonald re- 
paired to Ormaclade, to make preparations in concert with Lady 
Clanranald. The journey was not accomplished without encoun- 
tering a difficulty arising from the strictly-guarded state of the 
passes. While on her way, crossing the sea-ford between Ben- 
becula and South Uist, she and her servant were seized and 
detained by a militia party, which, on inquiry, she found to be 
that commanded by her stepfather. When Armadale came to the 
spot next morning', he was greatly surprised to nnd Flora in 



custody^ and quickly ordered her liberation. Of what passed 
between him and his stepdaughter, we have no distinct account ; 
but there seems no reason to doubt that he became a confidant 
in the scheme, and entered cordially into it. At her request he 
granted her a passport, to enable her to proceed on her return 
to her mother's house in Skye, accompanied by her man-servant, 
Neil Mackechan, and a young Irishwoman named Betty Burke. 
This last person was understood to be a servant out of place, 
whom she thought likely to answer her mother as a spinner : 
in reality, she contemplated making Prince Charles pass as 
Betty Burke. She now pursued her way to Ormaclade, where 
all the proper arrangements were made in the course of a few 

On Friday the 27th, everything being ready. Lady Clanranald, 
Flora, and her servant Mackechan, went to a wretched hut near 
the seaside, where he had taken up his abode. The elegant 
youth who had lately shone at the head of an army — the 
descendant of a line of kings which stretched back into ages 
when there was no history — was found roasting the liver of a 
sheep for his dinner. The sight moved some of the party to 
tears ; but he was always cheerful under such circumstances, 
and on this occasion only made the remark, that it might be 
well for other royal personages to go through the ordeal which 
he was now enduring. Lady Clanranald was soon after called 
home by intelligence of the arrival of a military party at her 
house, and Flora and her servant were left with the prince and 
O'Neal. Next morning* O'Neal was compelled, much against 
his will, to take his leave : he had not long parted from the 
prince when he was made prisoner. 

Next forenoon Charles assumed the printed linen gown, apron, 
and coif, which were to transform him from a prince into an 
Irish servant girl. He would have added a charged pistol under 
his clothes, but Flora's good sense overruled that project, as she 
concluded that, in the event of his being searched, it would be a 
strong proof against him. He was compelled to content himself 
with a stout walking-stick, with which he thought he should be 
able to defend himself against any single enemy. The boat, 
meanwhile, was ready for them at the shore. Arriving there 
wet and weary, they were alarmed by seeing several wherries 
pass with parties of soldiers, and vf ere obliged to skulk till the 
approach of night. They then embarked for Skye — Charles, 
Flora, Mackechan, and the boatmen. A night voyage of thirty 
or forty miles across a sound in the Hebrides, with the risk of 
being seized by some of the numerous government vessels con- 
stantly prowling about, was what they had to encounter. It ap- 
pears that the anxiety of Flora for the life of the prince was 
much greater than his own, and he was the only person on board 
who could do anything to keep up the spirits of the party. For 
that purpose he sang a number of lively songs, and related a few 



anecdotes. The niglit became rainy, and, distx^essed with the wet 
and her former fatigues, the young' lady fell asleep in the bottom 
of the boat. To favour her slumbers, Charles continued to sing*. 
When she awoke, she found him leaning over her, with his 
hands spread above her face, to protect her from any injury that 
might arise from a rower who was obliged at that moment to re- 
adjust the sail. In the same spirit he insisted upon reserving for 
her exclusive use a small quantity of wine which Lady Clan- 
ranald had given them. These circumstances are not related as 
reflecting any positive honour on the prince, but simply as facts 
which occurred on that remarkable night, and as at least showing 
that he was not deficient in a gentlemanlike tenderness towards 
the amiable woman who was risking so much in his behalf. It 
may here be mentioned that Mackechan, whose presence on the 
occasion was fully as good a protection to Flora's good fame 
as the name of O'Neal would have been, was a Macdonald of 
humble extraction, who had received a foreign education as a 
priest. He served the prince afterv/ards for some years, and be- 
came the father of the celebrated Marshal Macdonald, Duke of 
Tarentum, wl[\o, more than eighty years afterwards, visited the 
scenes of all these events. 

IVhen day dawned, they found themselves out of sight of 
land, without any means of determining in what part of the 
Hebrides they were. They sailed, however, but a little way 
farther, when they perceived the lofty mountains and dark bold 
headlands of Skye. Making with all speed towards that coast, 
they soon approached Waternish, one of the western points of 
the island. They had no sooner drawn near to the shore, than 
they perceived a body of militia stationed at the place. These 
men had a boat, but no oars. The men in Miss Macdonald's 
boat no sooner perceived them, than they began to pull heartily 
in the contrary direction. The soldiers called upon them to 
land, upon peril of being shot at ; but it was resolved to escape 
at all risks, and they exerted their utmost energies in pulling 
off their little vessel. The soldiers then put their threat in 
execution by firing, but fortunately without hitting the boat 
or any of its crew. Charles called upon the boatmen " not to 
mind the villains ;" and they assured him that, if they cared at 
all, it was only for him ; to which he replied, with undaunted 
lightness of demeanour, " Oh, no fear of me ! ''' He then 
intreated Miss Macdonald to lie down at the bottom of the 
boat, in order to avoid the bullets, as nothing, he said, would 
give him at that moment greater pain than if any accident were 
to befall her. She declared, however, that she would not do as 
he desired, unless he also took the same measure for his safety, 
which, she told him, was of much more importance than hers. 
It was not till after some altercation that they agreed to ensconce 
themselves together in the bottom of the boat. The rowers soon 
pulled them out of all farther danger. 



In the eag-erness of Duke William's emissaries to take Charles 
in Soutli Uistj or the adjoining islands in the range, where they 
had certain information he was, Skye, lying* close on the main- 
land; in which the prince was now about to arrive, was left com- 
paratively unwatched. The island was, however, chiefly pos- 
sessed by two clans, the Sleat Macdonalds and Macleods, whose 
superiors had deserted the Stuart cause, and even raised men on 
the opposite side. Parties of their militia were posted through- 
out the island, one of which had nearly taken the boat with its 
important charge when it was off Waternish. 

Proceeding on their voyage a few miles to the northward, 
the little party in the boat put into a creek, or cleft, to rest and 
refresh the fatigued rowers ; but the alarm which their appear- 
ance occasioned in a neighbouring village quickly obliged them 
to put oif ag-ain. At length they landed safely at a place within 
the parish of Kilmuir, about twelve miles from Waternish, and 
very near Sir Alexander Macdonald's seat of Mugstat. 

Sir Alexander was at this time at Fort Augustus, in attend- 
ance on the Duke of Cumberland ; but his wife. Lady Mar- 
garet Macdonald — one of the beautiful daughters of Alexander 
and Susanna, Earl and Countess of Eglintoune — a lady in the 
bloom of life, of elegant manners, and one who was accustomed 
to figure in the fashionable scenes of the metropolis — now resided 
at Mugstat. A Jacobite at heart, Lady Margaret had corre- 
sponded with the prince when he was skulking in South Uist, 
and she had been made aware by a Mrs Macdonald of Kirkibost 
that it was likely he would soon make his appearance in Skye. 
When the boat containing the fugitive had landed. Flora, attended 
by Mackechan, proceeded to the house, leaving Charles, in his 
female dress, sitting on her trunk upon the beach. On arriving 
at the house, she desired a servant to inform Lady Margaret 
that she had called on her way home from Uist. She was imme- 
diately introduced to the family apartment, where she found, 
besides Mrs Macdonald of Kirkibost, a Lieutenant Macleod, the 
commander of a band of militia stationed near by, three or four 
of whom were also in the house. There were also present Mr 
Alexander Macdonald of King^sburgh, an elderly gentleman 
of the neighbourhood, who acted as chamberlain or factor to Sir 
Alexander, and who was, she knew, a sound Jacobite. Flora 
entered easily into conversation with the officer, who asked her 
a number of questions, as where she had come from, where she 
was going, and so forth, all of which she answered without mani- 
festing the least trace of that confusion which might have been 
expected from a young lady under such circumstances. The 
same man had been in the custom of examining every boat which 
landed from the Long Island; that, for instance, in which Mrs 
Macdonald of Kirkibost arrived, had been so examined ; and we 
can only account for his allowing that of Miss Flora to pass, by 
the circumstance of his meeting her under the imposing courtesies 



of the drawing-room of a lady of rank. Miss Macdonaldj with 
the same self-possession, dined in Lieutenant Macleod's company. 
Seizing" a proper opportunity, she apprised Kingsburgh of the 
circumstances of the prince, and he immediately proceeded to 
another room, and sent for Lady Margaret, that he might break 
the intelligence to her in private. Notwithstanding the previous 
warning, she was much alarmed at the idea of the wanderer 
being so near her house, and immediately sent for a certain 
Donald Roy Macdonald, to consult as to what should be done. 
Donald had been wounded in the prince's army at Culloden, and 
was as obnoxious to the government as he could be. He came 
and joined the lady and her friends in the garden, when it was 
arranged that Kingsburgh should take the prince along with him 
to his own house, some miles distant, and thence pass him through 
the island to Portree, where Donald Roy should take him up, 
and provide for his further safety. 

The old gentleman accordingly joined Charles on the shore, 
and conducted him, as had been arranged, on the w^ay to Kings- 
burgh. Meanwhile, Flora sat in company with Lady Margaret 
and the young government officer till she thought the two 
travellers would be a good way advanced, and then rose to take 
her leave. Lady Margaret affected great concern at her short 
stay, and intreated that she would prolong it at least till next 
day ; reminding her that, when last at Mugstat, she had pro- 
mised a much longer visit. Flora, on the other hand, pleaded 
the necessity of getting immediately home to attend her mother, 
who was unwell, and entirely alone in these troublesome times. 
After a proper reciprocation of intreaties and refusals. Lady 
Margaret, with great apparent reluctance, permitted her young 
friend to depart. 

Miss Macdonald and Mackechan were accompanied in their 
journey by Mrs Macdonald of Kirkibost, and by that lady's male 
and female servants, all the five riding on horseback. They 
quickly came up with Kingsburgh and the prince, who had 
walked thus far on the public road, but were soon after to turn 
off upon an unfrequented path across the wild country. Flora, 
anxious that her fellow-traveller's servants, who were uninitiated 
in the secret, should not see the route which Kingsburgh and 
the prince were about to take, called upon the party to ride 
faster; and they passed the two pedestrians at a trot. Mrs 
Macdonald's girl, however, could not help observing the extra- 
ordinary appearance of the female with whom Kingsburgh was 
walking, and exclaimed, that she " had never seen such a tall 
impudent-looking* woman in her life ! See ! " she continued, 
addressing Flora, " what long strides the jade takes ! I daresay 
she's an Irishwoman, or else a man in woman's clothes." Flora 
confirmed her in the former supposition, and soon after parted 
with her fellow-travellers in order to rejoin Kingsburgh and the 



These individuals, in walking along tlie road^ were at first con- 
siderably annoyed "by the number of country people whom they 
met returning from churchy and who all expressed wonder at 
the uncommon height and awkwardness of the apparent female. 
The opportunity of talking to their landlord's factotum being 
too precious to be despised, these people fastened themselves on 
Kingsburgh, who, under the particular circumstances, felt a 
good deal annoyed by them, but at last bethought himself of 
saying, ^^ Oh, sirs, cannot you let alone talking of your worldly 
affairs on Sabbath, and have patience till another day." They 
took the hint, and moved off. The whole party — Charles, Kings- 
burgh, and Miss Macdonald — arrived in safety at Kingsburgh 
House about eleven o'clock at night. 

Mrs Macdonald, or, as she was usually called. Lady Kings- 
burgh, lost no time in preparing supper, at which Charles, still 
wearing the female disguise, placed Flora on his right hand, 
and his hostess on his left. Afterwards, the two ladies left the 
other two over a bowl of punch, and went to have a little con- 
versation by themselves. When Flora had related her adven- 
tures, Lady Kingsburgh asked what had been done with the 
boatmen who brought them to Skye. Miss Macdonald said they 
had been sent back to South Uist. Lady Kingsburgh observed 
that they ought not to have been permitted to return imme- 
diately, lest, falling into the hands of the prince's enemies in 
that island, they might divulge the secret of his route. Her 
conjecture, which turned out to have been correct, though 
happily without being attended with evil consequences to the 
prince, determined Flora to change the prince's clothes next 

The pretended. Betty Burke was that night laid in the best 
bed which the house contained, and next morning all the ladies 
assisted at her toilet. A lock of her hair was cut off as a keep- 
sake, and divided between Lady Kingsburgh and Flora. Late 
in the day, the prince set out for Portree, attended by Flora and 
Mackechan as before, Kingsburgh accompanying them with a suit 
of male Highland attire under his arm. At a convenient place in 
a wood, Charles exchanged his female dress for this suit ; it being 
thought best that this should be done after he had left Kings- 
burgh House, so that the servants there might have nothing to 
say, either of their own accord or upon compulsion, but that 
they had seen a female servant come and go in company with 
Miss Flora. The party now separated, Kingsburgh returning 
home, while the prince and Mackechan set out for Portree (a 
walk of fourteen miles), and Flora proceeded thither by a diffe- 
rent route. 

At this village, the only one in Skye, Donald Koy had mean- 
while made arrangements for carrying the prince to the neigh- 
bouring island of Eaasay, which was judged a safe place for 
him, as its apparent and legal proprietor, Mr Macleod, had not 



been concerned in the insurrection ; although his father, the 
actual proprietor, and all his followers, had been eng-aged in it, 
and he himself was strongly attached to the cause. In the 
evening, Donald and some friends whom he had called to his 
aid, received the adventurer at a mean public-house in the village, 
where he partook of a coarse meal, and slaked his thirst from 
a broken brown potsherd, which was usually employed in baling 
water out of a boat. Here Flora joined the party, but only to 
take a final farewell of the prince, as she was no longer able to 
be of any service to him. Having paid her a small sum of 
money which he had borrowed from her in their journey, he 
gave her his warm thanks for her heroic efforts to preserve his 
life, and tenderly saluted her, adding, in a cheerful manner, 
" For all that has happened, I hope, madam, we shall meet in 
St James's yet ! " He then set sail for Raasay with his new 
friends, while Flora proceeded to her mother's house in Sleat. 
Eespecting the further adventures of the prince, it is only neces- 
sary to say that they were of a nature not less extraordinary 
than those which have been related, and that they terminated, 
three months after, in his happily escaping to France. 

Our heroine Flora had gone through all these adventures with 
a quiet energy peculiar to her, but with little conception that 
she was doing anything beyond what the common voice of 
humanity called for, and what good people were doing every day. 
Beaching home, she said nothing to her mother, or any one else, 
of what she had been about, probably judging that the possession 
of such knowledge was in itself dangerous. Meanwhile the boat- 
men, returning to Uist, were there seized by the military, and 
obliged to give an account of their late voyage. This was what 
Lady Kingsburgh dreaded, and it seems to have been the only 
point in which the prudence of our heroine had failed. Having 
obtained an exact description of the dress of the tall female ac- 
companying Miss Macdonald, a merciless emissary of the govern- 
ment, styled Captain Ferguson, lost no time in sailing for Skye, 
where he arrived about a week after the prince. Inquiring at 
Mugstat, he learned that Miss Macdonald had been there ; but 
no tall female had been seen. He then followed on Flora's track 
to Kingsburgh, where he readily learned that the tall female had 
been entertained for a night. He asked Kingsburgh where Miss 
Macdonald and the person who was with her in woman's clothes 
had slept. The old gentleman answered that he knew where Miss 
Flora had lain, but as for the servants, he never asked any ques- 
tions about them. The officer nevertheless discovered that the 
apparent servant had been placed in the best bed, which he held 
as tolerably good proof of the real character of that person, and 
he acted accordingly. Kingsburgh was sent prisoner to Fort 
Augustus, and treated with great severity : thence he was re- 
moved to Edinburgh castle, where he suffered a whole year's con- 
finement. Macleod of Talisker, captain of a militia company^ 



caused a messag-e to be sent, desiring" tlie presence of Flora Mac- 
donald. She consulted with her friends, who recommended her 
not attending' to it ; but she herself determined to go. On her 
way she met her stepfather returning" home, and had not gone 
much farther, when she was seized by an officer and a party of 
soldiers, and hurried on board Captain Ferguson's vessel. Gene- 
ral Campbell, who was on board, ordered that she should be well 
treated ; and finding her story had been blabbed by the boatmen, 
she confessed all to that officer. 

She was soon after transferred from the ship commanded by 
Ferguson to one commanded by Commodore Smith, a humane 
joerson, capable of appreciating her noble conduct. By the per- 
mission of General Campbell she was now allowed to land at 
Armadale, and take leave of her mother : her stepfather was by 
this time in hiding, from fear lest his concern in the prince's 
escape should bring him into trouble. Flora, who had hitherto 
been without a change of clothes, here obtained all she required, 
and engaged as her attendant an honest good girl named Kate 
Macdowall, who could not speak a word of any language but 
Gaelic. She then returned on board the vessel, and was in time 
carried to the south. It chanced that she here had for one of 
her fellow-prisoners Captain O'Neal, who had engaged her to 
undertake the charge of the prince. When she first met him on 
board, she went playfully up, and slapping him gently on the 
cheek with the palm of her hand, said, " To that black face do 
I owe all my misfortune!" O'Neal told her that, instead of 
being her misfortune, it was her brightest honour, and that if 
she continued to act up to the character she had already shown, 
not pretending to repent of what she had done, or to be ashamed 
of it, it would yet redound greatly to her advantage. 

The vessel in which she was (the Bridgewater) arrived at 
Leith in September, and remained there for about two months. 
She was not allowed to land ; but ladies and others of her own 
way of thinking were freely permitted to visit her, and she 
began to find that her deliverance of Prince Charles had rendered 
her a famous person. Many presents of value were given to 
her ; but those which most pleased her were a Bible and prayer- 
book, and the materials for sewing, as she had had neither books 
nor work hitherto. Even the naval officers in whose charge she 
was were much affected in her behalf. Commodore Smith 
presented her with a handsome suit of riding clothes, with plain 
mounting, and some fine linen for riding shifts, as also some 
linen for shifts to her attendant Kate, whose generosity in offer- 
ing" to accompany her when no one else would, had excited 
general admiration. Captain Knowler treated her with the 
deference due to her heroic character, and allowed her to call 
for anything in the vessel to treat her friends when they came 
on board, and even to invite some of them to dine with her. 
On one occasion, when Lady Mary Cochrane was on board, a 



breeze beg-inning* to blow, the ladj requested leave to stay all 
nig-ht, which, was granted. This, she confessed, she chiefly was 
prompted to do by a wish to have it to say that she had slept 
in the same bed with Miss Flora Macdonald. At this time the 
prince was not yet known to have escaped, though such was 
actually the fact. One day a false rumour was brought to the 
vessel that he had been at length taken prisoner. This greatly 
distressed Flora, who said to one of her friends with tears in 
her eyes, '' Alas, I fear that now all is in vain that I have done F' 
She could not be consoled till the falsity of the rum^our was 
ascertained. Her behaviour during the whole time the vessel 
stayed in Leith Road was admired by all who saw her. The 
episcopal minister of Leith, who was among her visitors, wrote 
about her as follows : — ^' Some that went on board to pay their 
respects to her, used to take a dance in the cabin, and to press 
her much to share with them in the diversion ; but with all their 
importunity, they could not prevail with her to take a trip. She 
told them that at present her dancing days were done, and she 
v/ould not readily entertain a thought of that diversion till she 
should be assured of her prince's safety, and perhaps not till she 
should be blessed with the happiness of seeing him again. 
Although she was easy and cheerful, yet she had a certain mix- 
ture of gravity in all her behaviour, which became her situation 
exceedingly well, and set her off to great advantage. She is of 
a low stature, of a fair complexion, and well enough shaped. 
One would not discern by her conversation that she had spent 
all her former days in the Highlands ; for she talks English (or 
rather Scots) easily, and not at all through the Earse tone. She 
has a sweet voice, and sings well ; and no lady, Edinburgh-bred, 
can acquit herself better at the tea-table than what she did when 
in Leith Road. Her wise conduct in one of the most perplexing 
scenes that can happen in life, her fortitude and good sense, are 
memorable instances of the strength of a female mind, even in 
those years that are tender and inexperienced.'' 

The Bridgewater left Leith Road on the 7th of November, 
and carried her straightway to London, where she was kept in 
a not less honourable captivity in the house of a private family 
till the passing of the act of indemnity in July 1747, when she 
was discharged without being asked a single question. The 
ministers, we may well believe, had found that to carry further 
the prosecution of a woman whose guilt consisted only in the 
performance of one of the most generous of actions, would not 
conduce to their popularity .'-'^ Her story had by this time 

* It has been stated tliat Frederick Prince of AYalcs, father of Georg^e 
III., did not scruple to avow his admiration of Flora's conduct. His consort 
having one day expressed some disapprobation of her interference in behalf 
of "the pretender," the prince, whose heart was better than his head, said, 
*' Let me not hear you speak thus again, madam. If you had been in the 
same circumstances, I hope in God you would have acted as she did I " 


excited not less interest in the metropolis than it had done in 
Scotland. Being* received after her liberation into the house 
of the dowager Lady Primrose of Dunnipace, she was there 
visited by crowds of the fashionable vf orld^ who paid her such 
homage as would have turned the heads of ninety-nine of a 
hundred women of any age, country, or condition. It is said 
that the street in which Lady Primrose lived was sometimes 
completely filled with the carriages of ladies and gentlemen 
visiting^ the person called the Pretender ^s Deliverer. On the 
mind of Flora these flatteries produced no effect but that of 
surprise : she had only, she said, performed an act of common 
humanity, and she had never thought of it in any other light 
till she found the world making so much ado about it. It has 
been stated that a subscription to the amount of £1500 was 
raised for her in London. 

Soon after returning to her own country, she was married 
(November 6, 1750) to Mr Alexander Macdonald, son of the 
worthy Kingsburgh, and who in time succeeded to that pro- 
perty. Thus Flora became the lady of the mansion in which 
the prince had been entertained ; and there she bore a large 
family of sons and daughters. As memorials of her singular 
adventure, she preserved a half of the sheet in which the prince 
had slept in that house, intending that it should be her shroud ; 
and also a portrait of Charles, which he had sent to her after 
his safe arrival in France. When Dv Samuel Johnson, accom- 
panied by his friend Boswell, visited Skye in 1773, he was 
hospitably entertained at Kingsburgh, and had the pleasure (for 
so it was to him) of sleeping in the bed which had accommodated 
the last of the Stuarts : he remarked that he had had no ambi- 
tious thoughts in it. In his well-known book respecting this 
journey, he introduces the maiden name of his hostess, which 
he says is one "that wdll be mentioned in history, and, if 
courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour." He 
adds, " she is a woman of middle stature, soft features, gentle 
manners, and elegant presence" — a picture the more remark- 
able, when it is recollected that she was now fifty-three years 
of age. 

Soon after this period, under the influence of the passion for 
emigration which was then raging in the Highlands, Kings- 
burgh and his amiable partner went to North Carolina, where 
they purchased and settled upon an estate. She carried with 
her the sheet in which the prince had slept, determined that it 
should serve the purpose which she contemplated, wherever it 
might please Providence to end her days. But this event was 
not to take place in America. Her husband had scarcely settled 
there when the war of independence broke out. On that occasion 
the Highlanders showed the same faithful attachment to the 
government (being* now reconciled to it by mild treatment) 
which they had formerly manifested for the house of Stuart. 



Mr Macdonaldj being* loyally disposed^ was imprisoned by the 
discontented colonists as a dangerous person ; but lie was soon 
after liberated. He then became an officer in a loyal corps called 
the North Carolina Highlanders^ and he and his lady passed 
through many strange adventures. Towards the conclusion of 
the contest, abandoning all hopes of a comfortable settlement in 
America, they determined to return to the land of their fathers. 
In crossing the Atlantic, Flora met with the last of her adven- 
tures. The vessel being attacked by a French ship of war, 
nothing could induce her to leave her husband on deck, and in 
the course of the bustle she was thrown down and had her arm 
broken. She only remarked, that she had now suffered a little 
for both the house of Stuart and the house of Hanover. 

She spent the remainder of her life in Skye, and at her death, 
which took place March 5, 1790, when she had attained the 
age of seventy, was actually buried in the shroud which she 
had so strangely selected for that purpose in her youth, and 
carried with her through so many adventures and migrations. 
Her grave may be seen in the Kingsburgh mausoleum, in the 
parish churchyard of Kilmuir ; but a stone which was laid by 
her youngest son upon her grave, being accidentally broken, 
has been carried off in pieces by wandering tourists. Flora 
Macdonald retained to the last that vivacity and vigour of 
character which has procured her so much historical distinction. 
Her husband, who survived her a few years, died on the half- 
pay list as a British officer ; and no fewer than five of her sons 
served their king, in a military capacity. Charles, the eldest 
son, was a captain in the Queen's Hangers. He was a most 
accomplished man. The late Lord Macdonald, on seeing him 
lowered into the grave, said, " There lies the most finished 
gentleman of my family and name." Alexander, the second 
son, was also an officer : he was lost at sea. The third son, 
Kanald, was a captain of marines, of high professional cha- 
racter, and remarkable for the elegance of his appearance. 
James, the fourth son, served in Tarlton's British Legion, and 
was a brave and experienced officer. The last surviving son 
was Lieutenant-Colonel John Macdonald, who long resided at 
Exeter, and was the father of a numerous family. The engrav- 
ing prefixed to this sketch is taken from a portrait of Flora, 
which was originally in his possession, and which he approved 
of as a likeness. There were, moreover, two daughters, one of 
whom,^ Mrs Major Macleod of Lochbay, in the Isle of Skye, 
died within the last few years. 

Such is an authentic history of the heroic and amiable Flora 
Macdonald. Like all incidents equally romantic, the aid she 



extended to the prince; which unquestionably saved him from 
captivity and a violent death, has g^iven rise to various poetical 
effusions. One of the most pleasing of these pieces, from the pen 
of James Hogg-, narrating-, however, an incident as well as 
sentiments purely imag'inar^^, and entitled "Flora 
Lament," may here be appended : — 


Far over yon hills of tlie heather so green, 

And down by the Corrie that sings to the sea, 
The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane, 

The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e. 
She looked at a boat with the breezes that swung 

Away on the wave like a bird of the main ; 
And aye as it lessened, she sighed and she sung, 

Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again ! 
Fareweei to my hero, the gallant and young ! 

Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again ! 

The moorcock that craws on the brow of Ben Connal, 

He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame ; 
The eagle that soars on the cliffs of Clanronald, 

Unawed and unhunted his eyrie can claim : 
The solan can sleep on his shelve of the shore, 

The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea, 
But oh ! there is one whose hard fate I deplore, 

Nor house, ha', nor hame, in his country has he. 
The conflict is past, and our name is no more ; 

There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me I 


^■'^'fK(^ MONG the leading conditions essential to health, are 
^kT //^/ft cleanliness, and a constant supply of jmre air • and as 
^^ it is important that all should be made acquainted 
-J ^ with the danglers arising' from a negiect of these 

f'^ ^conditions, we respectfully submit the following* explana- 
tions and advices on the subject. In treatingv of cleanli- 
ness, it will be necessary to commence with a short ac- 
O count of 


The external covering" of the body, as is well known, is a soft, 
pliant membrane, called the skin, which protects the more deli- 
cate substances beneath it from injury ; but it is less generally 
understood that this covering' is not confined to the outer sur- 
face only. It continues over the lips and up the nostrils ; lines 
the mouth and tongue ; and still continuing onward, covers and 
lines all the parts of the throat ; lines the windpipe, and ex- 
tends through its innumerable branches in the lung's — lining all 
the passages and cells, and presenting to the air which enters 
the lungs an extent of surface equal to the whole external skin 
of the body, or, as some think, much greater. The skin also 
continues down the food-pipe, lining it and the stomach, and 
the whole intestinal canal and the ducts which open into it. In 
this manner, it may be said that the skin has neither beginning 
nor end, but is a universal and continuous coating of the body 
inside and out. 

Throughout its whole extent, the skin consists of three layers, 
one over the other. The outermost, or cuticle, is an exceed- 
ingly thin substance, which may be observed to peel off when 
the hand is accidentally frayed, or when it is raised by a blister ; 
the next is a layer which contains the colouring matter, giving', 
as the case may be, a shade from the slightest tan to the sooty 
black of the negro ; and the third or lowest is the true skin, a 
thick layer, which, when taken off animals, is tanned into 
leather. As a whole, the skin is much more thin and delicate 
at one part than another, that upon the soles of the feet and 
palms of the hands being, by constant use, the thickest and 
most durable, and that within the mouth, lungs, &:c. being ex- 
cessively fine, and easily injured. As respects these inner parts, 
the skin is usually spoken of as the mucous membrane — the 
membrane which is moist with a mucous fluid. 

Besides answering merely as a covering to the body, the skin 
performs various useful functions in our general economy well 
worth knowing. On examination with a microscope, it is found 
No. 51. 1 


that the lower or true skm consists of a vast combination of 
glands, ducts, blood-vessels, and nerves, the whole of which, com- 
municating with the interior on the one hand and the surface on 
the other, are concerned in keeping the general skin in order 
and the body in health. Of the nerves, which are universally 
distributed over the surface, it is here only necessary to say that 
they are the instruments of the sense of touch, and convey to the 
mind the consciousness of pleasant or unpleasant sensations. As 
an organ of sensation, therefore, the skin acts an important part, 
and on this account alone the keeping of it in a healthy condi- 
tion is deserving of careful consideration. Our interest at pre- 
sent, however, is confined to the functions of exhalation and 
absorption. An unthinking person would suppose that the sur- 
face of the body, from its general smoothness, was so close in 
texture that neither air nor liquid could pass readily through 
it. Such would be a mistake. The whole membrane may 
be likened to a sieve. Throughout its entire extent, externally 
and internally, there are a multitude of small holes or outlets, 
so closely set together, that we could not anywhere puncture 
ourselves with the point of a needle without touching one of 
them. These holes, called 'pores^ communicate with the ducts 
beneath, and these ducts terminate in glands or receptacles in 
the muscles. 

In the annexed cut we offer the representation of a section of a 
piece of skin, greatly magnified. The surface is covered with 
small conical eminences, marked A, 
called fapillcB ; in these are the extre- 
mities of the nerves of sensation, and 
also the outlets or pores. B marks the 
layer containing the colouring matter 
and the true skin ; the ducts, marked 
C, supply nourishment to the skin ; and 
those of a spiral form, marked D, con- 
vey the perspiration to the surface. 
Intermingled with the whole are nu- 
merous blood-vessels and nerves. 

By the apparatus now described, portions of the fluids no 
longer required in the system are conveyed to the surface of the 
body, when they escape into the atmosphere usually in the form 
of vapour, but sometimes as perspiration. In the extreme heat of 
summer, or when engaged in hard work, this liquid exhalation 
is very apparent. Not being observable in ordinary circumstances, 
it is styled the insensible pe7^spiration. In this office of an ex- 
haler, the skin acts as an auxiliary to the lungs, which throw off 
more copiously the waste liquid of the system in the form of 
vapour and deteriorated air. The amount of these two kinds of 
exhalation — the cutaneous or skin exhalation, and pulmonary or 
lungs exhalation — has engaged the inquiries of various writers 
on human physiology; two Frenchmen, Lavoisier and Seguin, 



having' had the honour of presenting* the most accurate survey of 
the subject. Dr Andrew CombCj in his valuable treatise on the 
Physiolog-y of Health, alludes as follows to the result of Seguin's 
investigation. He found that ^^ the largest quantity of insensible 
perspiration from the lungs and skin together amounted to thirty- 
two grains per minute, three ounces and a quarter per hour, or 
^ve pounds per day. Of this, the cutaneous constituted three- 
fourths, or sixty ounces in twenty-four hours. The smallest 
quantity observed amounted to eleven grains per minute, or one 
pound eleven and a half ounces in twenty-four hours, of which 
the skin furnished about twenty ounces. The medium or average 
amount was eighteen grains a minute, of which eleven were from 
the skin, making the cutaneous perspiration in twenty-four 
hours about thirty-three ounces." As seventeen ounces of water 
at an ordinary temperature are equal to about a pint, it appears 
that a man in good health and in general circumstances exhales 
through the skin nearly two pints of liquid daily. That such a 
large quantity should escape unnoticed, seems indeed strange ; 
but, as Dr Combe goes on to observe, " When the extent of sur- 
face which the skin presents, calculated at 2500 square inches, is 
considered, these results do not seem extravagant. But even," 
says he, " admitting that there may be some unperceived fallacy 
in the experiments, and that the quantity is not so great as is here 
stated, still, after making every allowance, enough remains to 
demonstrate that exhalation is a very important function of the 
skin. And although the precise amount may be disputed, it is 
quite certain that the cutaneous exhalation is more abundant 
than the united excretions of both bowels and kidneys ; and that, 
according as the weather becomes warmer or colder, the skin and 
kidneys alternate in the proportions of work which they severally 
perform, most passing off by the skin in warm weather, and by 
the kidneys in cold. The quantity exhaled increases after meals, 
during sleep, in dry warm weather, and by friction, or whatever 
stimulates the skin ; and diminishes when digestion is impaired, 
and in a moist atmosphere." 

Some years ago, Dr Smith made investigations as to the ex- 
tent of loss by perspiration during hard labour in a heated atmo- 
sphere. Eight workmen, in a large gas-work in London, where 
they require to work diligently, and be exposed to a high tem- 
perature at the same time, were weighed before going to work, 
and immediately afterwards. In an experiment in November, 
they continued to work for an hour and a quarter, and the 
greatest loss sustained by any one man was two pounds fifteen 
ounces. In another experiment in the same month, one man lost 
four pounds three ounces in three quarters of an hour ; and in an 
experiment of the same 'kind in June, one man lost as much as 
five pounds two ounces in an hour and ten minutes. It must be 
borne in mind, however, that this extraordinary difference was 
not caused by any direct loss of bodily substance, but by a dimi- 



nution of general weiglit, resulting* from tlie decomposition of 
the food recently taken, as well as from the exhalation of other 
waste fluids then lurking* in the system. The experiment is here 
narrated for the purpose of impressing on the mind the magni- 
tude of the operations which the skin, as an exhaling membrane, 
has sometimes to perform. 

As nature does nothing in vain, we may ask what has been 
her design in causing such an exhalation of vapour and liquid 
from the body ? The design has been the purifying of the sys- 
tem. The lungs are a cleansing apparatus ; they inhale air in a 
pure condition, and having absorbed its valuable property, oxyg^en, 
they expel it in a vitiated state. This vitiated air, known by the 
name of carbonic acid gas, when drawn back into the lungs with- 
out any mixture of atmospheric air, soon causes suffocation and 
death ; and even when mixed to any extent with pure air, it 
cannot be drawn into the lungs without injury to health. So, 
also, are the pores of the skin a cleansing apparatus, and, as men- 
tioned, they are auxiliary to the lungs. The two apparatuses 
work towards the same important end, of throwing off decom- 
posed and useless matter, and are in such close sympathy with 
each other, that when one is deranged, the other suffers, and 
health is consequently impaired. Thus, in all the irritations 
and affections of the external skin, the mucous membrane of the 
alimentary canal and lungs sympathises directly and powerfully ; 
and, on the other hand, any derangement or affection of the 
mucous membrane at once acts on the skin and its pores. 

Besides their exhahng- functions, the pores and other minute 
organs in the skin absorb air and moisture from the atmosphere, 
though less actively than the lungs, and are therefore inlets as 
well as outlets to the system. When the pores are in a state of 
great openness, or relaxation from heat, the power of absorption 
is materially increased. Hence, contagious diseases are more 
readily caught hj touch when the body is warm and moist, than 
when dry and cold. A pure and bracing atmosphere is well 
known to be more conducive to health than one which is heavy 
and relaxing. 

When the skin is in a proper condition, and the atmosphere 
pure, the vital functions, suffering- no impediment from external 
circumstances, proceed with the requisite energy, and the feelings 
enjoy that degree of buoyancy which is the best criterion of a 
good state of health. Of the evils arising* from a vitiated 
atmosphere, particularly in dwellings, we shall afterwards speak. 
Meanwhile, we confine ourselves to the injuries likely to ensue 
from a derangement of the perspiratory organs in the skin. The 
derangement most to be avoided is the stopping of the pores, and 
consequent suppression of the insensible perspiration. Sudden 
exposure to cold, after being heated, ordinarily produces this 
effect. When it occurs, the duty of expelling the excess of 
matter which would have escaped by the pores is thrown upon 



the lungs, the bowels, or the kidneys, causing* undue irritation 
and disorder. Very commonly the lungs are the readiest to 
suffer. They become clogged with phlegm, which produces an 
irritation, and this irritation causes a cough, and w^ith the cough 
expectoration (spitting). In instances of this kind, the sufferer 
is said to have a cold ; but, correctly speakings, his pores have 
been shut by some cold exposure. 

When in a perfectly healthy condition, the skin is soft, warm, 
and covered with a gentle moisture ; the circulation of the blood 
is also in a state of due activity, giving it a fresh and ruddy 
colour. The degree of redness, as, for instance, in the cheeks, is 
usually in proportion to the exposure to the outer atmosphere ; 
such exposure, when not too severe, causing active circulation of 
the blood not only throughout the body, but to the most minute 
vessels on the surface. Hence the pale and unhealthy hue of 
persons confined to the house and close sedentary emplo3rnient, 
and the ruddy colour of those who spend much of their lives in 
the open air. When the exposure is too severe, or more than can 
be conveniently counterbalanced by the animal heat, a chill, as 
already stated, is the consequence, and the skin assumes a pale 
appearance, the forerunner, it may be, of bodily indisposition : 
the insensible perspiration has been suppressed, and the lungs 
have got into a state of serious irritation. Warmth and other 
remedies restore the healthy functions of the pores ; but when 
the cold is neglected, inflammation of the bronchioe, or air-tubes 
communicating with the lungs, or some other pulmonary affec- 
tions, ensue, the lamentable issue of which may be — death. 

The danger of suppressing the perspiration is increased by 
another circumstance. Along with the liquid exhalation passes 
ofi' the superabundant heat of the body. If, therefore, we check 
the insensible perspiration, this superabundant quantity of heat 
is unable to make its escape by the surface, and returns upon the 
vital organs within. Fevers, rheumatism, and other dangerous 
maladies, are the consequence of this form of derangement, the 
end of which also is too often — death. In the greater number of 
cases, the skin may be said to be in a condition neither precisely 
healthy nor unhealthy, but between the two. The pores, par- 
tially clogged, are unable to expel the insensible perspiration with 
sufficient energy, and the kidneys and lungs are correspondingly 
charged with an excess of duty — not perhaps to a degree sen- 
sibly inconvenient, yet in some measure detrimental to general 
health, as well as to the activity of the mental functions depen- 
dent on it. 


It must be obvious, from w^hat has been said, that cleanliness is 
indispensable in securing not only a healthy condition, but also 
much comfort both of body and mind. Cleanliness is attained 
by an attention to various circumstances and practices ; for the 


most part people are clean only by halves. Dress, washing, 
bathing", household arrangements, all require consideration. 

Dress. — Purification of the skin may be greatly promoted hy 
the wearing of clean garments. That garment which is placed 
next the skin, the shirt, be it of linen, cotton, or woollen, ought 
to be changed less or more frequently according to circumstances 
— such as the degree of labour, the nature of the employment,, the 
warmth of the climate, and so on. The reason for the change is 
evident. The shirt is the immediate receiver of a large propor- 
tion of the matter thrown out by the pores, and much of what it 
receives it retains. Besides, therefore, becoming unseemly from 
its appearance, it becomes foul, and the foulness reacting on the 
skin, irritates and clogs it. Custom is the great regulator in 
affairs of this kind ; but is not always correct. Some change 
their linen daily, others every two or three days, the greater 
number weekly. What is very inconsistent, those who change 
their garments the least frequently are the manual labouring 
classes, who should change them more frequently than any one 
else. As it is principally for the benefit of this numerous 
body that we pen these pages, we must speak as explicitly as 

Addressing men (and women too) who labour daily at a me- 
chanical employment, we would offer the following advices : — 

1. Do not sleep in the shirt which you wear during the day. 
Have a night shirt and a day one. Cotton makes the best, as 
it is certainly the cheapest, night shirt, A clean day shirt should, 
if possible, be put on twice a week, and a clean night shirt once 
a week. Do not be contented with the old-fashioned practice of 
putting on a clean shirt only on Sundays. The washing of a 
shirt is a very small matter; and it must be a wretchedly-paid 
employment that cannot afford a trifle for this useful and agree- 
able purpose. 

2. If you labour at an employment in which fumes and exhala- 
tions of a deleterious kind are apt to be absorbed by the clothes 
you wear, make a rule of changing your whole garments every 
evening when done with work ; and let your work-clothes be 
washed pretty frequently, and well exposed to sun and air. This 
advice is particularly offered to house-painters, plumbers, and 
all who work in oils, pigments, and metals. By inattention to 
this practice, the health of house-painters is extremely liable to 
injury. They may be said to be gradually killed by the absorp- 
tion of poison through the skin, as well as by the lungs. One 
ordinary symptom of the disease which they contract is known 
by the name of painters^ colic. Indeed, every individual employed 
at chemical-works, dye-works, gas-works, and the like, should 
be extremely attentive to the cleanliness of their clothes and 
persons. After ten hours' exposure in such places, both the skin 
and garments are to a certain extent saturated with noxious 
fumes, and though for several years these may produce no other 


sensible effect than the inconvenience of an offensive odonr, yet 
they are most assuredly undermining the health of the parties 
exposed. Washing the body thoroughly after the hours of 
labour, will enable the skin to throw off the greater part of the 
effluvia it m^y have absorbed ; and shaking and exposing the 
garments to the air will materially assist in dispelling the offen- 
sive odours. It should be known, too, that dark-coloured cloth 
imbibes effluvia much more readily, and retains it longer, than 
cloth of a light or white hue. 

3. The best kind of outer garments for workmen of any class 
are such as will easily wash ; indeed all their daily work-clothes 
should be of materials that can be readily washed and dried. 
The neatest and most economical kind of cloth for jackets and 
trousers is strong white fustian. A tidy workman desirous of 
feeling comfortable and of looking respectable, may very easily 
have two suits, one to use while another is being washed and 
dried. How much a good wife may do to insure this health- 
giving cleanliness, need not be insisted on. 

In France and Germany, workmen of every class wear a blue 
linen or cotton blouse over their clothes while at work, which 
keeps everything clean, and looks neat. The wearing of such 
blouses would certainly be an improvement on the use of dirty 
and never-washed coats or jackets. They would also be advisable 
on the score of economy, as protecting from tear and wear the 
more expensive coat and waistcoat, which in warm weather or 
in in-door employments might be dispensed with altogether. 
Blouses are also easily cleaned, and when well-shaped and neatly 
stitched, are anything but inelegant. By being fastened round 
the waist by a belt of the same material, they will not be incom- 

Washing. — The hands, face, neck, and arms, should be washed 
at least twice daily, so as to remove every vestige of impurity 
from the skin. These ablutions should be in the morning on 
rising and in the evening after labour. If the labour be of a 
dirty kind, as, for instance, that of painters, plumbers, black- 
smiths, engineers, &c. the washing should be not only morning 
and evening, but at breakfast and dinner — before, not after, these 
meals. At the same time, the hair should be brushed, which, 
by the way, ought to be protected in all dusty employments by a 
light linen or paper cap. There cannot be the least doubt that, 
by such ablutions alone — nothing else being used than soap and 
water — the health of workmen would be very essentially pro- 
moted. Almost every gentleman washes his hands five or six 
times a-day ; how much more desirable is it for artisans engaged 
in dusty or dirty professions to clean and refresh themselves as 
frequently ! 

Sponging. — This is the next step towards personal cleanliness. 
In cases where bathing by entire immersion of the body cannot 
be conveniently obtained!^ it may answer every desirable end to 



sponge the body all over with water every morning' on getting" 
out of bed. In doing so, begin by wetting the head and shoulders, 
and then proceed to the rest of the body. To save a slop on the 
floor, the person may stand in a broad shallow tub or pan, or 
even on a square of oilcloth, which is cheap, and can be easily 
removed. After sponging, rub and dry the body with a rough 
towel, and then immediately dress. 

This process is so simple, so inexpensive, and will occupy so 
little time, that no one need neglect it on any common pretence. 
When a sponge cannot be conveniently obtained, a wet towel 
will answer the purpose. The small amount of trouble incurred 
hj this kind of ablution will in general be amply repaid by an 
increase of health and comfort. 

Opinions differ as to the temperature of the water to be em- 
ployed in sponging the body : some advocate cold, others tepid, 
or partiall}^ warm water. The regulation of this may be gene- 
rally left to the feelings. If the skin feel comfortable and warm 
after sponging with cold water and drying with the rough 
towel, cold water may be used with safety ; if the skin, however, 
feel chilly, the water ought to be warmed, or the skin may be 
rubbed with the dry towel without any previous sponging. A 
main object in the operation is to keep up a healthy action in the 
skin, and this may in many instances be effected by dry friction, 
either with a brush, hair-glove, or rough towel. 

The Shoiver-Bath, — The use of the cold shower-bath or the 
douche is more required as the means of giving a shock to the 
system, for the purpose of recovering* the constitution from some 
kind of morbid affection, than merely for preserving health. As 
it should not be applied without the recommendation of a medical 
attendant, we do not require to give any directions as to this 
mode of bathing*. 

Bathi7ig. — Here we arrive at the great and almost universally- 
recognised engine of personal purification. Entire immersion of 
the body in a bath of tepid or warm water is unquestionably the 
most effectual means of cleansing the skin from its natural or 
artificial impurities. For purification, however, the bath must 
be of soft and fresh water; sea water, cold or tepid, may refresh 
and invigorate, but it cleanses much less effectually than fresh 
water. The temperature of the tepid bath is from 85 to 90 
degrees of heat, and that of the warm bath from 90 to 100 
degrees. As an extreme heat may prove injurious to many con- 
stitutions, the safest temperature for most persons is about 90 
degrees, which is an agreeable warmth below the heat of the 
blood, and suitable for ordinary bathing. With respect to the 
best time for bathing, a person in good health may take a bath 
at any time, except immediately af^er meals. The length of 
time spent in the bath may vary from fifteen to twenty minutes ; 
a longer time, particularly if the bath be hot, is too relaxing, and 
far from safe or beneficial. The tepid or warm bath should not 



be taken oftener than twice a week ; tbongh once a week will 
suffice. On coming* out of the bath, the body should be well 
rubbed all over with a cloth. 

According to the Jewish dispensation, certain observances to in- 
sure personal cleanliness were the subject of religious injunction ; 
and for a similar reason Mahommedans in eastern countries have 
been enjoined to perform ablutions at stated times and seasons. 
In these Oriental countries, and also in Russia, the use of the 
warm bath is universal among- the richer classes, and the public 
establishments for bathing- are in some places on a scale of great 
splendour. Inattention to cleanliness of apparel seems to render 
these ablutions indispensable for personal comfort. 

Although, from the g'reater habitual cleanliness of the people 
of Great Britain, as well as from the colder climate, they do not 
require to be subjected to the same kind of bathings and scrub- 

bings which are deemed ne- 
cessary among the Oriental 
nations, it is allowed by all 
medical winters that the use 
of the bath is of g-reat value 
in preserving health, and in 
giving a buoyancy to the 
feelings. Every man who can aiford the means, and possesses 
the conveniency, should have a private bath lit ted up in his 
dwelling-house, in connexion with pipes of warm and cold water. 
Where fixed baths cannot be attained, a moveable bath of the 
form given in the annexed cut may be employed. 

Public Baths. — The mass of the people having neither the 
means to purchase nor the convenience for using private baths^ 
must of course resort to public ones ; and for their accommodation, 
therefore, every town ought to possess one or more establishments 
fitted up with all proper conveniences for bathing.* In this re- 
spect, notwithstanding our wealth, our boasted civilisation and 
mechanical skill, we fall infinitely short of the Greeks and 
Romans, who had not only their domestic, but their public baths, 

* Eminent physicians have endeavoured to draw the attention of the 
British government to the importance of public baths, and of countenanc- 
ing their use by every aid of example and encouragement. While we 
wonder at their prevalence among all the eastern and northern nations, 
may we not lament that they are so little used in our own country ? We 
might, perhaps, find reason to allow that erysipelas, surfeit, rheumatism, 
colds, and a hundred other evils, particularly all sorts of cutaneous and 
nervous disorders, might be alleviated, if not prevented, by a proper atten- 
tion to bathing. The inhabitants of countries in which the bath is con- 
stantly used, anxiously seek it, in full confidence of getting rid of all such 
complaints; and they are rarely disappointed. I may add my testimony 
to theirs, having not only upon the occasion which gave rise to these 
remarks, but in cases of obstructed perspiration much more alarming, 
dm-ing my travels, experienced their good effect. I hardly know any act 
of benevolence more essential to the comfort of the community, than that 



in which the poorest citizen might lave. These we consider 
luxuries ; to them they were necessaries, which they carried into 
their most distant provinces ; and thus it is that in Britain the 
ruin of the Roman bath is as frequent as the ruin of the Roman 
temple. A better state of thing-s, however, seems to be approach- 
ing" ; and for some years past, the institution of baths has much 
eng-aged the public attention. In organising such establishments, 
the following points require consideration : — 

1. An abundant supply of soft fresh water. The quantity de- 
sirable for a single bath is from forty to fifty gallons. Whether 
for single or public plunge-baths, the number of bathers per day 
may be multiplied by forty, and the quantity of water to be con- 
sumed will thus be ascertained. 

2. The water should flow into a large tank, from the tank to 
the boiler, and the boiler to the baths, the waste escaping by a 
conduit. If the tank is placed in a lower situation than the boiler, 
a steam power will be required to pump it. In most situations 
it is desirable to be as economical of space as possible, and for this 
purpose it is generally contrived to have the reservoirs under- 
ground; the plunge-bath, shower, and douche baths, heating 
apparatus, and waiting-room on the ground floor; and the private 
baths in the upper storey. 

of establishing, by public benefaction, the use of baths for the poor in all 
our cities and manufacturing towns. The lives of many might be saved 
by them. In England they are considered only as articles of luxury ; yet 
throughout the vast empire of Russia, through all Finland, Lapland, 
Sweden, and Norway, there is no cottage so poor, no hut so destitute, but 
it possesses its vapour bath, in which all its inhabitants, every Saturday at 
least, and every day in cases of sickness, experience comfort and salubrity. 
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, in spite of all the prejudices which prevailed 
in England against inoculation, introduced it from Turkey. If another per- 
son of equal influence would endeavour to establish throughout Great Bri- 
tain the use of warm and vapour baths, the inconveniences of our climate 
would be done away. Perhaps at some future period they may become 
general ; and statues may perpetuate the memory of the patriot, the 
statesman, or the sovereign, to whom society will be indebted for their 
institution. When we are told that the illustrious Bacon lamented in 
vain the disuse of baths among the Europeans, we have little reason to 
indulge the expectation. At the same time, an additional testimony to 
their salutary effects, in affording longevity and vigorous health to a 
people otherwise liable to mortal diseases from a rigorous climate and an 
unwholesome diet, may contribute to their establishment. Among the 
ancients, batlis were public edifices, under the immediate inspection of 
the government. They were considered as institutions which owed their 
origin to a.bsolute necessity, as well as to decency and cleanliness. Under 
her emperors, Rome had nearly a thousand such buildings, which, besides 
their utility, were regarded as masterpieces of architectural skill and 
sumptuous decoration. In Russia, they have only vapour baths, and these 
are, for the most part, in wretched wooden hovels. If wood is wanting, 
they are formed of mud, or scooped in the banks of rivers and lakes ; but 
in the palaces of the nobles, however they may vary in convenience or 
splendour of materials, the plan of construction is always the same. — 
Travels in Russia, hy Edward Samuel Clarhe, LL,D. 


3. The establishment should possess washing-rooms, single 
private bath-rooms, a large plunge bath-room, and a waiting- 
room ; also a separate apartment for the washing and properly 
drying of the towels and hand-cloths. 

4. In the washing-room or rooms there should be basins, at 
which all persons proposing to use the plunge-bath ought in the 
first place to wash their hands, face, arms, and neck. If a regu- 
lation of this kind is not enforced, the plunge-bath will very 
shortly be unendurable. 

5. The plunge-bath may be made of a circular or oblong form. 
That generally recommended is oblong, measuring 40 feet in 
length by 30 feet in breadth ; the depth, by means of a sloping 
bottom, to be from 4 to 6 feet. Within the bath there may be 
a step to assist in descending* and ascending. At one end, near 
the surface of the water, there should be several inlets, to be kept 
constantly running, and at the opposite extremity outlets for 
escape. By the careful adjustment of these orifices, the water 
may be kept in a state of considerable purity, notwithstanding 
its continual use. Besides this, the whole volume of water should 
be discharged twice a-week, and the bottom of the bath well 
scrubbed. The number of persons admitted at one time will 
require to be regulated according to circumstances. Over the 
bath there should be the means of ventilation. 

6. Where possible, the whole suite of baths should be lighted 
from above ; and each room should be furnished with hot water 
pipes, so as to raise its atmosphere to any desired temperature. 
We have spoken of a boiler, but this is only one means of 
heating that may be adopted. Steam-pipes, or a circulation of 
hot water, may be employed to keep the swimming-bath at the 
proper temperature ; and the hot-water tank may also be heated 
by steam. These, as well as other matters of detail, ought to be 
intrusted to the architect and plumber. 

7. Another important requisite is, that the situation be as 
central as possible for the great body of those for whose use 
it is intended. A short walk one would suppose to be rather 
agreeable than otherwise to the working -classes ; but expe- 
rience has found that, unless a bathing establishment be in 
their immediate vicinity, and be continually before their eyes, 
they are apt to seize every trifling accident— as a little unusual 
fatigue, a wet night, or the like — as an excuse for abandoning 
the ablution. 

Where steam-engines of large power are employed in con- 
nexion with cotton factories or other works, there is usually a 
certain quantity of waste steam or waste hot water at disposal, 
which could at an insignificant cost be directed into baths for 
the use of the workmen of the establishment ; and we hope this 
will be done wherever it is practicable. The improved health 
and cheerfulness of the parties benefited will be more than com- 
pensatory for the necessary outlay. 




The lungs, as already stated, inhale and use up pure ai];*, and 
expel only that which is vitiated. It is calculated that every 
human being consumes on an average two and a half hogsheads 
of pure air per hour. That may be called the allowance required 
by nature for the due action of the lungs, the purification of the 
blood, and the preservation of health. Dwellings, work-rooms, 
and other enclosed places, would require to afford that quantity 
of fresh air for each inmate ; and not only so, but something more 
to supply the consumption of air by iires and artificial lights. 
In a room having a number of lights, at least as much as four 
hogsheads per hour for each individual should be admitted. 

By neglecting to afford such supplies by means of channels 
for ventilating, almost every dwelling-house, work-room, school, 
church, theatre, &c. becomes filled with an impure air, to breathe 
which is most injurious to health. In many dwellings of the 
humbler classes, the confinement of air is considerably aggravated 
by the number of individuals who sleep in one apartment, the 
want of certain precautions as to cleanliness, and also in some 
cases the want of daylight. The well known result of these 
accumulated evils is an immense amount of fever and other 
diseases, terminating in death. 

This subject has for a number of years engaged the considera- 
tion of parliament and men of science, and numerous reports 
have been published, showing, by the most conclusive evidence, 
that the want of ventilation is daily producing diseases most 
fatal to the general population. A perusal of the following 
passages from these sanitary reports cannot but prove useful 
to those who are inclined to think lightly of ventilation. 

'^ Of defective ventilation, until very lately, little had been ob- 
served or understood, even by professional men or men of science ; 
and that it is only when the public health is made a matter of 
public care by a responsible public agency, that what is understood 
can be expected to be generally and effectually applied for the 
public protection. Vitiated air not being seen, and air which is 
pure in winter being cold, the cold is felt, and the air is excluded 
by the workmen. The great desideratum hitherto has been, to 
obtain a circulation of air which was warm as well as fresh. This 
desideratum has been obtained, after much trial, in the House of 
Commons ; but there is reason to believe that, by various means, 
at an expense within the reach of large places of work, a venti- 
lation equally good might be secured with mutual advantage.^' 

One of the parties examined observes — ^' I have collected the 
evidence of several master tailors in London on the effects of 
work in crowded or badly-ventilated rooms. Some are inclined 
to ascribe more of the ill health to the habits of the journeymen 
in drinking at public-houses, and to the state of their private 



dwellings, but in tlie main results the loss of daily power — 
that is, the loss of at least one-third the industrial capabilities 
enjoyed by men working* under advantageous circumstances : 
the nervous exhaustion attendant on work in crowds, and the 
consequent temptation to resort continually to stimulants, which 
in their turn increase the exhaustion, are fully proved, and in- 
deed generally admitted. I have caused the mortuary registers 
to be examined, but find that they do not distinguish the 
masters from the journeymen, and that there are no ready means 
of distinguishing" those of the deceased who have been employed 
in the larger shops. It is also stated that many who come to 
work in towri, and become diseased, return and die in the vil- 
lages. Eut in the registered causes of death, of 233 persons 
entered during the year 1839, in the eastern and w^estern Unions 
of the metropolis, under the g-eneral head ' tailor,' no less than 
123 are registered as having died of disease of the respiratory 
organs, of whom 92 died of consumption; 16 of diseases of the 
nervous system, of whom 8 died of apoplexy ; 16 of epidemic or 
contagious diseases, of whom 1 1 died of typhus : 23 are regis- 
tered as having died of diseases of ' uncertain seat,' of whom 13 
fell victims of dropsy ; 8 died of diseases of the digestive organs, 
and 6 of ^ heart disease ; ' and of the whole number of 233, only 
29 of old age ; and of these, if they could be traced, we may 
pronounce confidently that the greater proportion of them w^ould 
be found to be not journeymen — of whom not two or three per 
cent, attain old age — but masters. On comparing the mortuary 
registers in the metropolis with the registers in the north-western 
and south-western parts of England, where we may expect a 
larger proportion of men working separately, I find that whilst 
53 per cent, of the men die of diseases of the respiratory organs 
in the metropolis, only 39 per cent, die of these diseases in the 
remote districts ; that whilst fiye per cent, die of typhus in Lon- 
don, only one per cent, fall victims to it in the country; that 
whilst in London only 12 in the hundred attain old age, 25 in 
the hundred are registered as having attained it in the remote 
districts. I have been informed that some tailors' w^orkshops at 
Glasgow have been carefully ventilated, and that the immediate 
results are as satisfactory as were anticipated, but the change 
has been too recent to permit any estimate of the effects on the 
general habits of the workmen. 

The preceding case may serve as a general instance of the 
practical difference of the effects in the saving of suffering as w^ell 
as of expense, by active benevolence exerted with foresight in 
measures of prevention, as compared with benevolence exerted in 
measures of alleviation of disease after it has occurred. 

The subscriptions to the benevolent institution for the relief of 
the aged and infirm tailors by individual masters in the metro- 
polis, appear to be large and liberal, and amount to upwards of 
£11,000; yet it is to be observed, that if they or the men had 



been aware of tlie effects of vitiated atmosplieres on the constitu- 
tion and general strength, and of the means of ventilation, the 
practicable gain of money from the gain of labour by that sani- 
tary measure could not have been less in one large shop, employ- 
ing 200 men, than £100,000. Independently of subscriptions of 
the whole trade, it would, during their working period of life, 
have been sufficient, with the enjoyment of greater health and 
comfort by every workman during the time of work, to have 
purchased him an annuity of £l per week for comfortable and 
respectable self-support during a period of superannuation, com- 
mencing soon diiteTjifty years of age. 

If we thus find the crowding of unventilated places of work 
injurious — in which persons rarely pass more than twelve out of 
the twenty-four hours, being free during the remaining time to 
breathe what air they please — how much worse should we expect 
the consequences to be of the same fault in workhouses, hospitals, 
schools, and prisons, in which individuals often pass both day 
and night in the same apartments, or if in different apartments, 
still in the same crowd. Accordingly, since the attention of 
medical men has been sufficiently directed to the subject, the ex- 
planation has become complete of many deplorable cases of general 
ill health and mortality in such places, attributed at first to defi- 
ciency or bad quality of food, or to any cause but the true one — 
want of ventilation.* A striking illustration of this was afforded 
in the case of a large school for children during the years 1836 
and 1837, as recorded in the second volume of the Poor Law 
Heports. Such general failure of health and such mortality had 
occurred among the children as to attract public notice, and the 
animadversions of many medical men and others who visited the 
schools ; but by most the evil was attributed chiefly to faulty 
nourishment ; and it was only after the more complete examina- 
tion made by direction of the board, and of which the report is 
published, as above stated, that the diet was found to be unusually 
good, but the ventilation very imperfect. Suitable changes were 
then made ; and now, in the same space where 700 children were, 
by illness, awakening extensive sympathy, 1100 now enjoy excel- 
lent health. The defective state of information on the subject of 
ventilation is frequently shown in reports, which assume that 
apartments containing given cubic feet of space are all that is 
requisite for life and health, whereas if a spacious drawing-room 
be completely closed against the admission of air, an inhabitant 
confined to it would in time be stifled, whilst by active ventilation 
or change of air, men working in connexion with diving-machines 
live in the space of a helmet, which merely confines the head. 

* " In the space of four years, ending in 1784, in a badly-ventilated 
house, the Lying-in Hospital in Dublin, there died 2944 children out of 
7650 ; but after freer ventilation, the deaths in the same period of time, and 
in a like number of children, amounted only to 279." — Gen. Rep. p. 107- 



In the majority of instances of the defective ventilation of 
schools, the pallid countenance and delicate health of the school- 
boy, commonly laid to the account of over-application to his 
book, are due simply to the defective construction of the school- 
room. In the dame schools, and the schools for the labouring^ 
classes, the defective ventilation is the most frequent and mis- 

From this, as well as all other testimony on the subject, it is 
clear that society is daily suffering' to an indescribable extent by 
atmospheric impurity. Great loss of life, occasional or lingering" 
bad health, poverty from inability to labour, mental depression^ 
crime, and intemperance, are the well-observed results of this 
discreditable state of things. 

To assuage as far as possible this enormous evil, very ex- 
tensive improvements would be required in the construction of 
towns and dwellings generally, and perhaps these may in time 
be effected, including* more plentiful supplies of water. Mean- 
while, the evil may be materially lessened by employers and 
public bodies adopting means for ventilating work-rooms, 
churches, and other edifices. This may be done in two ways : 
The first consists of leading tubes from the unventilated apart- 
ments to a large fire or furnace, the natural demand for .air by 
the fire drawing off the vitiated atmosphere, while fresh air is 
left to enter by numerous small openings or crevices ; such being-, 
in fact, the plan pursued for ventilating* the houses of parliament. 
The second process of ventilation may consist in propelling fresh 
air into buildings (or into ships) by a small and cheaply-con- 
structed apparatus, lately invented by the benevolent Dr Neil 
Arnott ; the vitiated air in this case being expelled by the in- 
trusion of what is fresh. A power equal to that of a man or 
boy can work the apparatus.* 

In workshops, schools, and public rooms, open fire-grates are 
preferable to stoves, as they require a continual current of air 
towards them — thus drawing off all impure air, as well as noxious 
vapours and dusty particles. Where an open fire is used, a very 
equable ventilation may be kept up by a few apertures in the 
walls, slanting from the outside upward to the ceiling-. The 
only thing to be attended to in all cases of artificial ventilation, 
is for parties not to sit in the currents so created, the results of 
which inadvertence are too frequently colds, rheumatism, and 
the like. 

With respect to the ventilation of private houses, we offer the 
following admonitory hints : — 

1. If at all possible, never have more than one bed in a room ; 
and let the window of that room be thrown open whenever the 
weather will permit. 

* Those desirous of applying this ingenious apparatus should communi- 
cate with Dr Arnott. His address is Bedford Square, London. 



2. Let eacli bed be as open and aiiy as possible ; tbat is, have 
plenty of room for the air to play over it and about it. Closing" 
11]) the front of the bed, so as to leave only a small open space, as 
is the case in many cottag'es in the country, is a plan greatly to 
be condemned. 

3. The bed should be as open and airy during the day as the 
night, for during the night it absorbs impurities which should 
have liberty to escape after the persons rise from it. 

4. On rising in the morning, open wide the curtains or doors 
of the bed, throw down the bed-clothes, or, what is better, 
hang them on screens during the day, and open the window 
and door, so that the air may blow freely through the house, and 
carry off all impurities in the atmosphere. Such precautions are 
especially necessary in the case of newly-built houses, where 
moisture and other injurious exhalations are apt to arise from 
the walls, the painting, and wood-work. Indeed, no recent erec- 
tion ought to be inhabited till all the apartments have been well- 
seasoned by fires and thorough atmospheric exposure. 

5. A good housewife will also take care to allow nothing- to 
remain within doors which may cause a bad smell. All by- 
corners and closets should be regularly swept out, washed, and 

6. If the house consist of only one apartment, and be inhabited 
by several individuals, it should be limed or whitewashed once 
a-year, and every part of the floor and entrance passages washed 
weekly. All such clean sings should be in the morning, in order 
that the house may be quite dry before night. 

7. Allow no impurities of any kind to accumulate about the 
door or outside of the dwelling*: the odours rising from stag- 
nant gutters and open drains are a fertile source of fever. 

It may be asked, how is it to be known when a house is over- 
heated or ill-ventilated. If, on going* from an apartment to the 
external air, you feel a sudden chill, depend upon it the difference 
between the internal and external temperature is too great, and 
the former ought to be lowered by gradually admitting more of 
the external air. If, ag-ain, on coming from the open air, you 
are sensible of a stifling musty odour in any apartment, at once 
throw open the door or windows, and see for the future that a 
continual current be admitted, to prevent such a want of ventila- 
tion. Many people, instead of admitting the fresh air, endeavour 
to dissipate bad odours by artificial scents, but this is a mere 
temporary and injurious expedient. The evil still remains, and 
in a few hours it is found that such a practice has been only to 
substitute one offensive smell for another. 

By attention to these simple but necessarily brief directions, as 
regards cleanliness and ventilation, much disease and suffering-, 
loss of time through ill health, moral deterioration, and other 
obvious evils, might be avoided, and a vast amount of comfort 
and enjoyment secured. 



LL knowledge is received through the medium of the 
senses, usually reckoned five in number — seeing, hear- 
ing, taste, smell, and touch or feeling ; such, in fact, 
being the agents by which the mind is excited to re- 
ceive or communicate ideas. A deprivation of one or more 
of the senses, as is well known, ordinarily leads to increased 
activity of the others, in consequence of the greater reliance 
placed upon them ; nevertheless, it seems evident that any 
such deprivation must, less or more, cause a deficiency in the 
intellectual conceptions. A person who has been blind from 
earliest infancy can, by no process of feeling, hearing, or smell- 
ing-, be made to have even moderately correct ideas of light or 
colours ; neither does it appear to us that any one who has been 
always deaf can attain to anything like a proper understanding 
of sound. Deprivation of hearing- from birth m.ay be considered 
a double calamity, for it is naturally attended with deprivation 
of speech; and hence the deaf-mute, whatever be his acquire- 
ments, always excites our warmest compassion. 

Which of the senses could be most conveniently spared, has 
probably been with most persons a subject of occasional con- 
sideration, and it is only when the merits of each are compared 
that we have a thorough notion of their value. Had we never 
possessed eyes, then should we never have beheld the glories of 
the sun, moon, and stars ; the beauteous earth we tread, fields, 
ilowers, colours, the magnificent ocean, or the face of those we 
love. Had we been deaf from birth, then should Ave never have 

heard sounds, music. 
No. 52. 


nor have been able to hold com- 



munication by speech ; of tlie tones of affection we should never 
have been conscious. Had we been deficient in taste, we should 
have been exposed to injury in* eating that which should be 
rejected as food ; and along with a deprivation of the kindred 
sense of smell, we should have been constantly in a state of diffi- 
culty and danger. It would be needless to speculate on the 
deprivation of feeling, for we cannot conceive that life should 
exist for any length of time with such a deficiency. Great as 
we must deplore the misfortune of those who labour under an 
irremediable privation of any of the senses, we must in as great 
a degree admire that Providential care which provides a measure 
of compensatory happiness. Although stricken with blindness^ 
and shut out from being* a spectator of nature's marvellous 
handiwork, how usually superior is the enjoyment of har- 
monious sounds, how exquisite the love of music ! The deaf,, 
too, have their enjoyments, and are at least blest witli a pleasing 
unconsciousness of the loss which they sustain. Lamentable, 
indeed, is the fate of those who have been deprived of the two 
more important senses — seeing and hearing ; yet that even blind 
deaf-mutes, with no other senses to rely upon than smell, taste, 
and feeling, may enjoy a qualified happiness, and be susceptible 
of moral cultivation, has been shown in several well-accredited 
instances. One of the most remarkable cases of the kind is that 
of James Mitchell, the story of whose blameless and interesting 
life we propose in the first place to lay before our readers. 


James Mitchell was born in the year 1795 at Ardclach, s 
parish in the north of Scotland, of which his father was clergy- 
man. He v/as the youngest except one of seven children, and 
neither his parents nor his brothers or sisters had any deficiency 
in the senses. Soon after birth, his mother discovered that he- 
was blind, from his manifesting no desire to turn his eyes to the 
light. On inspection, it was observed that it was blindness 
caused by cataract ; both the lenses were opaque, a cloudy 
pearl-like substance resting over the retina or seeing part of 
each eye. This was a sufficiently distressing discovery, but how 
much greater was the anguish of the poor mother v/hen she soon 
after found that her infant was deaf as well as blind ! Excluded 
from all ordinary means of direction, the child was guided only 
by feeling and natural impulse — an object so helpless as to re- 
quire constant and careful attention. Fortunately, his constitu- 
tion was otherwise sound : he learned to walk like other children, 
by being put to the ground and left to scramble to his feet, hold- 
ing by any objects near him. 

While between one and two years of age, he began to evince 
considerable acuteness in touch, taste, and smell, being able by 



these to disting^uisli strangers from the members of his own 
family, and any Httle article which was appropriated to himself 
from what belong-ed to others. As he advanced in years, various 
circumstances concurred to prove that neither the auditory nerves 
nor retina were entirely insensible to impressions of sound and 
lig-ht, and that thoug'h he derived little information from these 
org'ans, he received from them a considerable degree of gratifica- 
tion. A key having accidentally come into his hand, he put it 
to his mouth ; it struck on his teeth. This was to him a most 
important discovery. He found that the blow communicated a 
vibration through his head, and this, the nearest approach to 
sound, was hailed with delight ; henceforth the striking of a key 
on his teeth became a daily gratification. As great was the 
pleasure he derived from any bright or dazzling object being held 
to his eyes. One of his chief amusements was to concentrate the 
sun's rays by means of pieces of glass, transparent pebbles, or 
similar substances, which he held between his eye and the light, 
and turned about in various directions. There were other modes 
by which he was often in the habit of gratifying his desire of 
light. He would go to any outhouse or room within his reach, 
shut the windows and doors, and remain there for a considerable 
time, with his eyes fixed on some small hole or chink which 
admitted the sun's rays, eagerly catching them. He would also, 
during the winter nights, frequently retire to a corner of a dark 
room, and kindle a light for his amusement. Such indeed seemed 
to be the degree of pleasure which he received from feasting his 
eyes with light, that he would often occupy himself in this man- 
ner for several hours without interruption. In this, as well as in 
the gratification of the other senses, his countenance and gestures 
displayed a most interesting avidity and curiosity. His father 
often remarked him employing many hours in selecting from the 
bed of the river, which flows within a few yards of the house, 
stones of a round shape, nearly of the same weight, and having 
a certain degree of smoothness. These he placed in a circular 
. form on the bank, and then seated himself in the middle of the 

At the age of thirteen his father took him to London, where 
the operation of piercing the membrane of each tympanum of 
the ear was performed by Sir Astley Cooper, but without improv- 
ing* his hearing in the least. An operation was also performed 
on the left eye by Mr Saunders, but with little or no success. 
As there appeared still some hopes of restoring vision, his father 
a second time carried him to London in the year 1810, when 
fifteen years of age, and placed him under the charge of Mr 
Wardrop, an eminent surgeon. Mr Wardrop's account of the 
boy is so interesting that we shall give it in his own words. 
" This poor boy,'' says he, " had the usual appearance of strength 
and good health, and his countenance was extremely pleasing, 
and indicated a considerable degree of intelligence. On examin- 



ing the state of his eyes, the pupil of each was observed to be 
obscured by a cataract. In the right eye the cataract was of a 
white colour and pearly lustre, and appeared to pervade the 
whole of the crystalline lens. The pupil, however, readily dilated 
or contracted according' to the different degTees of light to which 
it was exposed. The cataract in the left eye was not equally 
opaque, about one-third of it being dim and clouded, arising as 
it appeared from very thin dusky webs crossing it in various 
directions, the rest being of an opaque white colour. The pupil 
of this eye did not, however, seem so susceptible of impressions 
from varieties in the intensity of light as that of the other, nor 
did he employ this eye so often as the other to gratify his fond- 
ness for light. I could discover no defect in the organisation of 
his ears. It was difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain with 
precision the degree of sight which he enjoyed, but from the 
preternatural acuteness which his senses of touch and smell had 
acquired, in consequence of having been habitually employed to 
collect that information for which the sight is peculiarly adapted, 
it may be with confidence presumed that he derived little if any 
assistance from his eyes or organs of vision. Besides, the appear- 
ances of the disease in the eyes were such as to render it extremely 
probable that they enabled him merely to distinguish some colours 
and differences in the intensity of light. The organs of hearing 
seemed equally unlit for receiving the impressions of ordinary 
sounds as his eyes were those of objects of sight. Many circum- 
stances at the same time proved that he was not insensible to sound. 
It has been already observed that he often amused himself by 
striking hard substances against his teeth, from which he appeared 
to derive as much gratification as he did from receiving the im- 
pression of light on his eyes. When a ring of keys was given 
to him he seized them with great avidity, and tried each sepa- 
rately by suspending it loosely between two of his fingers, so as 
to allow it to vibrate freely ; and after jing'ling them amongst 
his teeth in this manner, he generally selected one from the 
others, the sound of which seemed to please him most. A 
gentleman observing this circumstance, brought to him a musical 
snuff-box, and placed it between his teeth. This seemed not only 
to excite his wonder, but to afford him exquisite delight ; and his 
father and sister, who were present, remarked that they had 
never seen him so much interested on any former occasion. 
Whilst the instrument continued to play, he kept it closely 
between his teeth ; and even when the notes were ended, he con- 
tinued to hold the box to his mouth, and to examine it minutely 
with his fingers, his lips, and the point of his tongue, expressing 
by his gestures and by his countenance extreme curiosity. Besides 
the- musical snuff-box, I procured for him a common musical key. 
When it was first applied to his teeth, he exhibited expressions 
of fear mixed with surprise. However, he soon perceived that 
it was attended with no harm, so that he not only allowed it to 


be renewed J but he soon acquired tbe habit of striking* it on his 
own hand so as to make it sound, and then touching* his teeth 
with it. One day his father observed him place it upon the 
external ear. He has also, on some occasions, been observed to 
take notice of, and to appear uneasy with very loud sounds. 
Thus, therefore, the teeth, besides being- org-ans of mastication, 
and also serving* as org*ans of touch in examining* the food in the 
mouth, so that the hard and indig*estible part may be rejected, in 
this boy seemed to be the best channel of communicating: sound 
to the auditory nerve. His org*ans of touch, smell, and taste, 
had all acquired a preternatural degree of acuteness, and appeared 
to have supplied in an astonishing* manner the deficiencies in the- 
senses of seeing and hearing*. By those of touch and smell, in 
particular, he was in the habit of examining* everything* within 
his reach. Large objects, such as the furniture of a room, 
he felt over with his fingers ; whilst those w^hich were more 
minute, and which excited more of his interest, he applied to his 
teeth, or touched with the point of his tong-ue. In exercising 
the sense of touch, it was interesting* to notice the delicate and 
precise manner in which he applied the extremities of his fingers, 
and with what ease and flexibility he would insinuate the point 
of his tongue into all the inequalities of the body under exami- 
nation. But there were many substances which he not only 
touched, but smelled during his examination. To the sense of 
smell he seemed chiefly indebted for his knowledge of different 
persons ; he appeared to know his relations and intimate friends 
by smelling them Yevj slightly, and he at once detected strangers. 
It was diflficult, however, to ascertain at what distance he could 
distinguish people by this sense; but from w^hat I was able to 
observe, he appeared to be able to do so at a considerable distance 
from the object. This was particularly striking when a person 
entered the room, as he seemed to be aware of this before he 
could derive information from any other sense than that of smell, 
except it may be that the vibrations of the air indicated the ap- 
proach of some person. In selecting his food, he was always 
guided by his sense of smell, for he never took anything into his 
mouth without previously smelling it carefully. His taste was 
extremely delicate, and he showed a great predilection for some 
kinds of food, whilst there were others of which he never partook. 
He had on no occasion tasted butter, cheese, or any of the pulpy 
fruits, but he was fond of milk, plain dressed animal food, apples, 
peas, and other simple nutriment. He never took food from any 
one but his parents or sister. 

But the imperfections which have been noticed in his organs 
of sight and of hearing were by no means accompanied with 
such defects in the powers of his mind as might be suspected. 
He seemed to possess the faculties of the understanding in a 
considerable degree ; and when w^e reflect that his channels of 
communication with the external world must have afforded very 

MB; AjN'D blind. 

slow means of acquiring' informationj it is rather surprising liow 
mucli knowledge lie liad obtained. Impressions transmitted 
tlirough. tlie medium of one sense miglit call into being some of 
tlie most important operations of intellect. Facts have been 
given to prove that this boy possessed both recollection and 
judgment. We are ignorant of the qualities of bodies which in- 
fluenced his determinations and his affections. On all occasions, 
however^ it was clear that he made his experiments on the objects 
which he examined with all the accuracy and caution that his 
circumscribed means of gaining intelligence could admit. The 
senses he enjoyed, being thus disciplined, acquired a preternatural 
degree of acuteness, and must have furnished him with informa- 
tion respecting the qualities of many bodies which we either 
overlook, or are in the habit of obtaining through other channels. 
Perhaps the most striking feature of the boy's mind was his 
avidity and curiosity to become acquainted with the different 
objects around him. When a person came into the room where 
he was, the moment he knew of his presence he fearlessly went 
tip to him and touched him all over, and smelled him with eager- 
ness. He showed the same inquisitiveness in becoming acquainted 
with everything within the sphere of his observation, and was 
daily in the habit of exploring the objects around his father's 
abode. He had become familiar with all the most minute parts 
of the house and furniture, the outhouses, and several of the ad- 
jacent fields, and the various farming- utensils. He showed great 
partiality to some animals, particularly to horses, and nothing 
seemed to give him more delight than to be put on. one of their 
backs. When his father went out to ride, he was always one of 
the first to watch his return ; and it was astonishing* how he 
became warned of this from remarking a variety of little in- 
cidents. His father putting on his boots, and such like oc- 
currences, were all accurately observed by the bojr, and led him 
to conclude how his father was to be employed. In the remote 
situation where he resided, male visitors v/ere most frequent ; and 
therefore the first thing he generally did was to examine whether 
or not the stranger wore boots. If he did, he immediately quitted 
him, went to the lobby, found out and accurately examined his 
whip, then proceeded to the stable, and handled his horse with 
great care and the utmost attention. It occasionally happened 
that visitors arrived in a carriage. He never failed to go to the 
place where the carriage stood, examined the whole of it with 
much anxiety, and amused himself with the elasticity of the 
springs. The locks of doors attracted much of his attention ; and 
he seemed to derive great pleasure from turning the keys. He 
was very docile and obedient to his father and sister, who 
accompanied him to London, and reposed in them every con- 
fidence for his safety, and for the means of his subsistence. It 
has been already noticed that he never took food from any one 
but the members of his own family. I several times offered him an 



apple, of whicli I knew lie was extremely fond ; but lie always 
refused it with, signs of mistrust^ tlioiigL. ttie same apple, after- 
wards g-iven him by his sister, was accepted greedily. It was 
difficult to ascertain the manner in which his mind was guided in 
the judgment he formed of strangers, as there were some people 
whom he never permitted to approach him, whilst others at once 
excited his interest and attention. The opinions which he formed 
of individuals, and the means he employed to study their cha- 
racter, were extremely interesting. In doing this, he appeared 
to be chiefly influenced by the impressions communicated to him 
hj his sense of smell. When a stranger approached him, he 
eagerly began to touch some part of his body, commonly taking 
hold of the arm, which he held near his nose ; and after two or 
three strong inspirations through the nostrils, he appeared to 
form a decided opinion reg-arding him. If this was favourable, he 
shov/ed a disposition to become more intimate, examined more 
minutely his dress, and expressed by his countenance more or 
less satisfaction ; but if it happened to be unfavourable, he sud- 
denly went off to a distance with expressions of carelessness or 
disgust. When he was first brought to my house to have his 
eyes examined, he both touched and smelled several parts of my 
body ; and the following day, whenever he found me near him, 
he grasped my arm, then smelled it, and immediately recog^nised 
me, which he signified to his father by touching his eyelids with 
the fingers of both hands, and imitating the examination of his 
eyes, which I had formerly made. I was very much struck with 
his behaviour during this examination. He held his head, and 
allowed his eyes to be touched with an apparent interest and 
anxiety, as if he had been aware of the object of my occupation. 
On expressing to his father my surprise at the apparent con- 
sciousness of the boy of what was to be done, he said that he had 
fi^equently, during the voyage from Scotland, signified his ex- 
pectation and his desire that some operation should be performed 
on his eyes ; thus showing an accurate recollection of his former 
visit, and a conception of the objects of it. During the first 
examination, and on several future ones, when I purposely 
handled the eye roughly, I was surprised to find him submit to 
everything that was done with fortitude and complete resig- 
nation, as if he was persuaded that he had an organ imperfectly 
developed, and an imperfection to be remedied by the assistance 
of his fellow-creatures. 

Many little incidents in his life have displayed a good deal of 
reasoning and observation. On one occasion a pair of shoes were 
given to him, which he found too small, and his mother put them 
aside into a closet. Some time afterwards, young Mitchell found 
means to get the key of the closet, opened the door, and taking 
out the shoes, put them on a young man, his attendant, whom 
they fitted exactly. On another occasion, finding his sister's 
shoes very wet after a walk, he appeared uneasy till she chang-ed 



them. He frequently attempted to imitate his father's farm-ser- 
vants in their work, and was particularly fond of assisting- them 
in cleaning the stables. At one time, when his brothers were 
employed making basket-work, he attempted to imitate them ; 
but he did not seem to have patience to overcome the difficulties 
he had to surmount. In many of his actions he displayed a re- 
tentive memory, and in no one was this more remarkable than in 
his second voyag-e to London. Indeed, as the objects of his 
attention must have been very limited, it is not to be wondered 
at that those few should be well remembered. He seemed to 
select and show a preference to particular forms, smells, and 
other qualities of bodies. He has often been observed to break 
substances y/ith his teeth, or by other means, so as to give them 
a form which seemed to please him. He also preferred to touch 
those substances which were smooth, and which had a rounded 
form ; and he has been known to employ many hours in selecting* 
smooth water-worn pebbles from the channel of the river. He 
also seemed to be much pleased with some shells, and equally dis- 
gusted with others ; and this latter feeling he expressed by squeez- 
ing his nostrils, and turning his head from whence the smell 
came. He showed an equal nicety in the selection of his food. 

He sometimes showed a good deal of drollery and cunning, 
particularly in his amusements with his constant companion and 
friend, his sister. He took g'reat pleasure in locking people up 
in a room or closet ; and would sometimes conceal things about 
his person or otherwise, which he knew not to be his own pro- 
perty, and when he was detected doing so, he would laug'h 
heartily. That he was endowed with affection and kindness to 
his own family cannot be doubted. The meeting with his mother 
after his return from this London visit showed this very strongly. 
On one occasion, finding" his mother unwell, he was observed to 
weep ; and on another, when the boy who attended him happened 
to have a sore foot, he went up to a garret room, and brought 
down a stool for his foot to rest upon, which he recollected to 
have so used himself on a similar occasion long before. He 
seemed fond too of young children, and Avas often in the habit of 
taking them up in his arms. His disposition and temper were 
generally placid, and when kind means were employed, he was 
obedient and docile. But if he was teased or interrupted in any 
of his amusements, he became irascible, and sometimes got into 
violent paroxysms of rage. At no other time did he ever make 
use of his voice, with which he produced most harsh and loud 
screams. It is not one of the least curious parts of his history 
that he seemed to have a love of finery. He early showed a 
great partiality to new clothes ; and when the tailor used to 
come to make clothes at his father's house (a practice common 
in that part of the country), it seemed to afford him great plea- 
sure to sit down beside him whilst he was at work ; and he never 
left him until his own suit was finished. He expressed much 



disappointment and anger when any of his brothers g*ot new 
clothes and none were given to him. Immediately before he 
came to London, each of his brothers got a new hat, while his 
father considered his own good enough for the sea voyage. Such, 
however, was his disappointment and rage, that he secretly went 
to one of the outhouses, and tore the old hat to pieces. Indeed 
his fondness for new clothes afforded a means of rewarding him 
when he merited approbation ; and his parents knew no severer 
mode of punishment than by obliging him to wear old ones. 

With respect to the means which were employed to com- 
municate to him information, and which he made use of to com- 
municate his desires and feelings to others, these were very inge- 
nious and simple. His sister, under w^hose management he 
chiefly was, had contrived signs addressing his organs of touch, 
by which she could control him and regulate his conduct. On 
the other hand, he by his gestures could express his wishes and 
desires. His sister employed various modes of holding his arm, 
and patting him on the head and shoulders, to express consent, 
and different degrees of approbation. She signified time by 
shutting his eyelids and putting down his head, which done 
once meant one night. He expressed his wish to go to bed by 
reclining his head, distinguished me by touching his eyes, and 
many workmen by imitating their different employments. When 
he wished for food he pointed to his mouth, or to the place where 
provisions were usually kept.'' 

Mr Wardrop then details the particulars of the operation of 
coucMng the left eye, having abandoned the idea of extraction of 
the lens, which operation was rendered extremely difHcult, in 
consequence of the struggles of his patient, w^ho although evi- 
dently willing to submit to whatever was intended to be done, 
yet had not resolution when the operation was actually com- 
menced. By confining him in a machine, however, the cataract 
was broken up, and so far displaced that he obtained a certain 
degree of vision. " On the filth day,'' continues Mr Wardrop, 
"he got out of bed, and was brought into a room having an 
equal and moderate light. Before even touching or seeming to 
smell me, he recognised me, which he expressed by the fear of 
something to be done to his eyes. He went about his room 
readily, and the appearance of his countenance was much altered, 
having acquired that look which indicated the enjoyment of 
vision. He appeared well acquainted with the furniture of the 
room, having lived in it several days previous to the operation ; 
and though, from placing things before him, he evidently dis- 
tinguished and attempted to touch them, judging of their dimen- 
sions with tolerable accuracy, yet he seemed to trust little to the 
information given by the eye, and always turned away his head 
while he carefully examined by his sense of touch the whole 
surfaces of bodies presented to him. Next day he could distin- 
guish a shilling placed on the table, and put his hand on it, as 
10 9 


also a piece of white jaaper the size of a sixpence. When taken 
out on the street, he was much interested with the busy scene 
around. A post supporting a scaffold at the distance of two 
or three yards chiefly attracted his notice, and he timorously 
approached it, groping and stretching out his hand cautiously 
until he touched it. On being taken to a tailor^s shop, he 
expressed a great desire for a suit of new clothes, and it was 
signified to him that his wishes would be complied with ; and 
being allowed to make a choice, he selected from among the 
variety of colours a light yellow for his breeches, and a green 
for his coat and waistcoat. Accordingly these were made, and 
as I solicited his father not to allow them to be put on until I 
was present, it was signified to him that he should have per- 
mission to wear them in tw^o days. The mode by which he 
received this communication was by closing his eyelids and 
bending down his head twice, thereby expressing that he must 
first have two sleeps. One day after the clothes were finished, 
I called and requested that he should be dressed in them. This 
was intimated to him by touching his coat and giving him a 
ring of keys, one of which opened the door of the room where 
the clothes were kept. He gladly grasped the keys, and in an 
instant pitched on the one he wanted, opened the door, and 
brought a bundle containing his new suit into the room where 
we were sitting. With a joyful smile he loosened the bundle, 
and took out of the coat-pocket a pair of new white stockings, a 
pair of yellow gloves, and a pair of new shoes. The succeeding 
scene was perhaps one of the most extraordinary displays of 
sensual gratification which can well be conceived. He began 
by first trying on his new shoes, after throwing away the old ones 
with great scorn, and then with a smiling countenance went 
to his father and sister, holding up to each of them and to 
me his feet in succession, that we might admire his treasure. 
He next put on the yellow gloves, and in like manner showing" 
them to his father and sister, they expressed their admiration by 
patting him on the head and shoulders. He afterwards sat 
down opposite to a window, stretched out on each knee an ex- 
panded hand, and seemed to contemplate the beauty of his gloves 
with a degree of gratification scarcely to be imagined. At one 
time I attempted to deceive him, by putting a yellow glove very 
little soiled in place of one of his new ones. But this he instantly 
detected as a trick, and smiled, throwing away the old glove, and 
demanding his new one. This occupation lasted a considerable 
time, after which he and his sister retired to another room, 
where he v/as dressed completely in his new suit. The expres- 
sion of his countenance on returning into the room in his gaudy 
uniform excited universal laughter, and every means was taken 
to flatter his vanity and increase his delight. One day I gave 
Mm a pair of green glasses to wear, in order to lessen the influ- 
ence of light on his eye. He looked through them at a number 



of ol)jects in succession ; and so great was Ms surprise^ and so 
excessive Ms pleasure, that he burst into a loud fit of laughter. 
In general he seemed much pleased with objects which were of a 
white; and still more particularly those of a red colour. I observed 
Mm one day take from his pocket a piece of red sealing-wax, 
which he appeared to have preserved for the beauty of its colour. 
A white waistcoat and white stockings pleased him exceedingly, 
and he always gave a marked preference to yellow gloves.^' 

After leaving London, his father writes — ^^ James seem-ed much 
amused with the shipping in the river, and until we passed Yar- 
mouth Roads. During the rest of the passage we were so far 
out at sea that there y/ as little to attract his notice, except the 
objects around him on the deck. He appeared to feel no anxiety 
till we reached this coast, and observed land and a boat coming 
alongside of the vessel to carry some of the passengers on shore. 
He seemed then to express both anxiety and joy ; and we had 
no sooner got into the river which led to the landing-place, than 
he observed from the side of the boat the sandy bottom, and was 
desirous to get out. When we got to land he appeared happy, 
and felt impatient to proceed homewards. On our arrival that 
evening, after a journey of seventeen miles, he expressed great 
pleasure on meeting with his mother and the rest of the family. 
He made signs that his eye had been operated upon, that he 
also saw with it, and at the same time signified that he was 
fixed in a particular posture, alluding to the machine in which 
he had been secured during the operation. He has now learned 
to feed himself and to put on his own clothes. No particular 
object has yet attracted his attention in the way of amusement.'' 

This short gleam of hope and sunshine soon closed upon poor 
Mitchell. Couching for cataract is seldom permanently success- 
ful. The cloudy pearl-like matter being for the most part only 
broken up, not altogether removed, again settles into a mass, and 
blindness once more ensues. Such was the case with the object 
of our memoir : his eye again became opaque, and he relapsed 
into a state of, as it was thought, irremediable blindness. The 
brief and partial view which he thus got of the world around 
him was all that he was destined to see of the face of nature, and 
all the recollections which he could treasure up of the green 
earth, the sun, and sky, to cheer his future life of loneliness. 

In the following year he is described as incapable of distin- 
guishing even a large object at the distance of only a yard or 
two ; and though he recovered a little more vision a few months 
afterwards, he seems to have relapsed again into as great a state 
of darkness as before. In 1811 his father died. The day after, 
Ms sister took him into the room, and made him touch the 
corpse. The touch of the dead body surprised and alarmed him, 
though expressions of grief were not apparent. This was the 
first dead human body he had ever had an opportunity of exa- 
mining : before this he had felt the dead bodies of animals, and 



one day was seen amusing" himself by attempting to make a dead 
fowl stand on its legs. On the day of the funeral a number of 
friends assembled to pay the last tribute to the honoured remains. 
The poor boy, unconscious of the full extent of his loss, glided 
about among the crowd, his curiosity excited by the unusual 
assemblage. Two of the observers state that when the coffin 
was first brought out containing his father's corpse, he clung 
to it, and seemed for the moment deeply affected. It is certain 
that he afterwards repeatedly visited the grave, and patted the 
turf with his hands. 

The death of his mother a few years later, after the family 
had removed to the neighbouring town of Nairn, was a new 
source of grief ; and the suggestion naturally rose in his mind 
that he should lose his sister also, and for some time he showed 
an extraordinary unwillingness to quit her even for an instant. 
His feelings of distress on this and other occasions were some- 
what assuaged by a recourse to a new species of amusement. 
When he last visited London, he happened to be in the house of 
a friend of his father, who was in the habit of smoking ; and a 
pipe being given to him, he smoked it and seemed much delighted. 
Alter his return home, a gentleman came on a visit to Ardclach, 
who was also in the habit of smoking, and having tobacco wished 
for a pipe. Miss Mitchell gave the boy a halfpenny, and per- 
mitted him to smell the tobacco. He understood her signs, went 
out to a shop in the neighbourhood where pipes were to be had, 
and returned with one in his hand. From this time the smoking 
of tobacco became a favourite indulgence, from which it was not 
considered necessary to divert him. 

Numerous particulars are related of the subsequent life of 
Mitchell, but these it is unnecessary to repeat, and we confine 
ourselves to what follows, as interest in his conduct and habits 
in a great degree ceases from the time he obtained a view of the 
external world — a view which, however short, must have given 
him a distinct idea of light and colours, and also the appear- 
ance of animate and inanimate objects. His sister, in describing 
his condition after this period, mentions that " he continued to 
take an unabated interest in the employment of the various 
workmen in town ; and in the progTess of their work, particularly 
mason work, examining minutely what has been done in his 
absence, and fearlessly ascending the highest part of their scaf- 
folding, in which he has hitherto been most providentially pre- 
served from any serious accident. While the addition lately made 
to a house was roofing, I remarked him ascending the slaters' 
ladder and getting on the roof. Laying himself down, and fix- 
ing his heel in a rough part of the surface, he moved himself 
along, one foot after the other, until the fear of his slipping ren- 
dered me unable to remain longer to look at him. I believe such 
is his common practice whenever anything of the kind is carry- 
ing on. He is so perfectly inoffensive, that all classes contribute 



towards Ms safety and even to his amusement, allowing liim to 
enter their houses and handle whatever he has a mind to, as he 
never attempts carrying* anything away with him or injuring 
it while in his possession. Indeed, except in one instance, I 
never knew him exposed to any unpleasant treatment in these 
unceremonious visits. It was in the case of a family who came 
to reside in this neighbourhood about three years ago, and who 
were quite unacquainted with his situation. When he went out 
as usual to the house (where with the former occupants he had 
been accustomed to range at pleasure), and began feeling the 
umbrellas and other articles in the lobby, with the intent, as they 
supposed, of carrying them off, they first remonstrated with him, 
and getting no reply, they then proceeded to turn him forcibly 
out of doors, which they effected after receiving as many kicks 
and blows as he could bestow in the struggle. He was afterwards- 
seen by two gentlemen who knew him, bellowing with rage. 
They wished to get hold of him and soothe him, but found it 
impossible from the furious rate at which he was going; and 
although regretting his apparent irritation, they were not a little 
amused upon approaching the house to see a domestic peeping 
fearfully out at a half-opened door, and the other members of the 
family, which consisted mostly of females, at the various win- 
dows, whence they could obtain a view of the person who had 
been the cause of so much fear and trouble to them.'' 

In 1826 Sir Thomas Dick Lauder thus relates an interesting 
visit which he received from Mitchell at Relugas, a distance of 
seventeen miles from Nairn : — '^ It was one day about noon, in 
the month of May, that I saw him pass the window of the dining- 
room where I was sitting, and immediately recognising him, I 
hastened to the house door, and met him in the porch, in the act 
of entering. I took him by the hand, clapped him gently on the 
back, and led him to the room I had just left, and taking him 
towards Mrs Cumin, who was the only person with me at the 
time, he shook hands with her. I then conducted him to a 
sofa, where he sat down ; and being apparently a good deal tired, 
he leaned back in expectation of finding support, but the sofa 
being one of those constructed without a back, he was surprised, 
and instantly made himself master of its form by feeling it all 
over. I then took his hand and put it to his mouth, w4th the 
intention of making him understand that he should have "some- 
thing to eat. He immediately put his hand into his waistcoat- 
pocket, where he had some copper, as if with the intention of 
taking it out. * * My impression was that he meant to 

express that he could pay for food if it w^as given him. Miss 
Mitchell seems to think that it was an indication of satisfaction 
merely. I confess, however, that his action appeared to me to 
be so immediately consequent on mine, that I cannot yet doubt 
that it resulted from it. He may have misinterpreted my 
signal, and imagined that it referred to a pipe and tobacco j 



and tliis may perhaps reconcile our difference of opinion. I lost 
no time in ordering lunclieonj and in the meanwhile I gave my 
interesting visitor a cigar. He took it in his hand, smelt it, 
and then put it into his waistcoat-pocket with a smile of infinite 
satisfaction. I took another cigar from the case, and having 
lighted it, I put it into his hand. He carried it also directly 
towards his nose, but in its way thither the red glare of the 
burning end of it caught his eye (which is perfectly aware of 
light althoug-h not of form), and arrested his hand. He looked 
at it for a moment, turned it round, and having extinguished it 
between his finger and his thumb, he put it also into his pocket 
with the air of being much amused. I was then convinced that 
he had never before met with a cigar, and that he knew it only 
as tobacco. I therefore prepared another, lighted it, smoked 
two or three whiffs so as to make him sensible of the odour, and 
then taking his hand, I put the cigar into it, and guided it to 
his mouth. He now at once comprehended matters, and began 
whiffing away with great delight ; but the fumes of the tobacco 
ascending from the burning end of the cigar stimulated his eye, 
and gave him pain, yet he was not to be defeated by this circum- 
stance, for, retaining the cigar between his fore-finger and 
thumb, he stretched up his middle finger, and keeping his eye- 
lid close with it, he went on smoking until I judged it proper 
to remove the end of the cigar from his mouth when it was 
nearly finished. By this time Lady Lauder came in, and I 
begged that the children might be brought. I took each of them 
to him in succession, and he patted their heads, but the cere- 
mony, though tolerated, seemed to give him little pleasure. A 
tray now appeared, and I led him to a seat at the table. I put 
a napkin on his knee, and comprehending what he was to be 
employed in, he drew his chair very close to the table, as if to 
prevent accident to the carpet, and spread the napkin so as to 
protect his clothes. I helped him to some broth, and guided his 
spoon for two or three times, after which I left him to himself, 
when he leaned over the table and continued to eat the broth 
without spilling any of it, groping for the bread, and eating 
slice after slice of it with seeming appetite. The truth was, he 
had been wandering for some days, had been at Ardclach, had 
had a long walk that morning, and was very hungry. I then 
cut some cold meat for him, and he helped himself to it very 
adroitly with his fork, drinking beer from time to time as he 
wanted it, without losing a drop of it. After he had finished 
he sat for a few minutes, and then he arose as if he wished to g-o. 
I then gave him a glass of wine, and each of us having shaken 
him by the hand, he moved towards the door, where I got him 
his hat, and taking him by the arm, I led him down the approach 
to the lodge. Having made him aware of the obstruction which 
the gate presented, I opened it for him, led him into the road, 
and giving his awn a swing in the direction I wished him to 



take, I shook hands with him again, and he moved away at a 
good round pace, as I had indicated. Some years ago Mitchell 
paid a visit to Reliigas, but I was from home at the time, and as 
he was known to no one else, his awkward gait occasioned his 
being mistaken for a drunk or insane person, and the doors 
being shut against him, he went away. He never repeated his 
visit until the late occasion, but I am not v/ithout hope that the 
kind treatment he last met with may induce him to come here 
the next time he takes a ramble. His countenance is so intelli- 
gent, and its expression in every respect so good, that he inte- 
rested every individual of the family, and delighted us all." 

A gentleman who visited Mitchell in 1832, has thus described 
to us his interview. " When I called he was abroad, but in a 
short time he made his appearance, and was led into the 
room by his sister. His face was weatherbeaten, but he had 
the appearance of robust health. He was of middle stature, 
and at this time thirty-seven years of age. His countenance 
was mild and pleasant ; with nothing of a vacant look, his fea- 
tures had that precise and distinct outline, especially his mouth, 
that indicates a reflecting mind. His head was well-formed, 
round, and what would be termed large. He was plainly dressed, 
but with that appearance of neatness and cleanliness which 
showed he had sufficient self-respect as to take the proper care of 
his clothes; indeed, as I afterwards learned, he is particularly 
nice regarding his dress. On examination, I found his eyes and 
his state of vision such as I had been led to expect ; that is, he 
can distinguish bright sunshine from darkness, and perhaps 
white or brilliant objects from black ones, but this is the whole 
extent of his powers ; he cannot distinguish the lines of form of 
bodies, or the lineaments or expressions of the human counte- 
nance. The left eye, which had been operated upon, is opaque 
and muddy over the whole pupil; with it I conjectured he saw 
little or none : in the other eye the opacity of the lens is som.e- 
what circumscribed, especially on the inferior margin, and it is on 
this edge of the pupil that I could perceive an opening by which 
a few rays of light might enter. His sister thought that his 
vision had somewhat improved of late. When an object is pre- 
sented to him, if it be bright and glittering, he holds it towards 
the inferior edge of this eye ; but immediately after he puts it to 
the test of the organs of touch, taste, and smell, which evidently 
shows his still very limited extent of vision. 

After having satisfied my curiosity regarding this highly 
interesting being, I rose to take leave. He seemed to be sensible 
of the movement, and also rose. His sister intimated that a 
shake of the hand would be acceptable, and I impressed upon 
him a most cordial adieu. I could not help thinking how dif- 
ferent might have been my interview with this same person had 
it pleased God to have endowed him with the use of all his 
senses ; how I might have been instructed by his intelligence, 



amused with his cheerful active fancy, and warmed with that 
tide of benevolent feeling* and affection, of all of which so many 
unequivocal traces were visible, even as it was. But no doubt 
his measure of happiness is full, however limited it may appear 
to us ; and Avhen the beautiful aspect and soft sounds of another 
w^orld burst upon him, they will not be the less relished that he 
walked in darkness and in soHtude in this." 

To his inestimable guide and companion the following eulo- 
gium by the late Sir James Mackintosh is appropriately due : — 
" His sister is a young woman, of most pleasing appearance and 
manners, distinguished by a very uncommon degree of modesty, 
caution, and precision in her accounts of him, and probably one 
of the most intelligent as w^ell as kindest companions that ever 
guided a being doomed to such unusual if not unexampled priva- 
tions. Her aversion to exaggeration, and her singular supe- 
riority to the pleasure of inspiring- wonder, make it important to 
the purposes of philosophy as well as humanity that she should 
continue to attend her brother. Separation from her would in- 
deed be an irreparable calamity to this uijfortunate youth. By 
her own unaided ingenuity she has conquered the obstacles which 
seemed for ever to preclude all intercourse between him and other 
minds ; and what is still more important, by the firm and gentle 
exertion of her well-earned ascendant over him, she spares him 
much of the pain which he must otherwise have suffered from 
the occasional violences of a temper irritated by a fruitless 
struggle to give utterance to his thoughts and wishes." 

We now take leave of this unfortunate being, who, as far as we 
know, still lives, and turn to the case of a blind deaf-mute, who 
has excited a lively interest in this country and in America. 


Lauba Bridgman was born in Hanover, New Hampshire, 
on the 21st of December 1829. For a few^ months after birth 
she was a sprightly infant with blue eyes, but being of a weakly 
constitution, and afflicted with severe fits, her parents had little 
hope of rearing her. When eighteen months old, her health im- 
proved, and she advanced considerably in intelligence ; but soon 
she relapsed ; disease raged violently during five weeks ; and her 
eyes becoming inflamed, they suppurated, and their contents 
were discharged. At the same time she lost the sense of hearing. 
She was now, at two years of age, blind and deaf. But this was 
not all her misfortunes. The fever having continued to rage, 
after a few months her sense of smell was almost destroyed, and 
her taste was much blunted. She was also so greatly reduced in 
strength, that it was a year before she could walk unsupported, 
and two years before she could sit up all day. It was not until 
she w^as four years of age that her health was entirely restored ; 


and yet in what a condition was slie placed — deaf, dumb, blind, and 
possessing only a slight consciousness of smell and taste ! Every 
avenue of communication with the external world mig'ht be said 
to be gone, except feeling. The deprivations having taken place 
when she was an infant of two years of age, she consequently 
retained no recollection of having- either seen or heard ; and as 
her eyes were destroyed, any hope of restoring vision was out of 
the question. 

"What a situation was hers!" observes Dr Howe, in the 
account of poor Laura's case. " The darkness and the silence of 
the tomb were around her ; no mother's smile called forth her 
answering smile, no father's voice taught her to imitate his 
sounds; brothers and sisters were but forms of matter which 
resisted her touch, but which differed not from the furniture 
of the house, save in warmth and in the power of locomo- 
tion, and not even in these respects from the dog and the cat. 
But the immortal spirit which had been implanted within her 
could not die, nor be maimed nor mutilated ; and though most 
of its avenues of communication with the world were cut oif, it 
began to manifest itself through the others. As soon as she 
could walk, she began to explore the room, and then the house : 
she became familiar with the form, density, weight, and heat of 
every article she could lay her hands upon. She followed her 
mother, and felt her hands and arms as she was occupied about 
the house ; and her disposition to imitate led her to repeat every- 
thing herself. She even learned to sew a little, and to kiiit. 

At this time I was so fortunate as to hear of the child, and 
immediately hastened to Hanover to see her. I found her with 
a well-formed figure, a strongly-marked, nervous-sanguine tem- 
perament, a large and beautifully shaped head, and the whole 
system in healthy action. The parents were easily induced to 
consent to her coming to Boston, and on the 4th of October 
1837, they brought her to the institution.* 

For a while she was much bewildered, and after waiting about 
two weeks until she became acquainted with her new locality, 
and somewhat familiar with the inmates, the attempt was made 
to give her a knowledge of arbitrary signs, by which she could 
interchange thoughts with others. There was one of two ways 
to be adopted ; either to go on to build up a language of signs 
on the basis of the natural language which she had already com- 
menced herself, or to teach her the purely arbitrary language in 
common use ; that is, to give her a sign for every individual 
thing, or to give her a knowledge of letters by combination of 
which she might express her idea of the existence, and the mode 
and condition of existence, of anything. The former would have 
been easy, but very ineffectual ; the latter seemed very difficult, 

* The Perkins Institution and Massachusetts Asylum for the BImd, at 
Boston, over which Dr Howe presides. 


but if accomplislied, very eiFectual. I determined tlierefore to 
try the latter. 

Tlie first experiments were made by taking articles in common 
use, sncli as knives, forks, spoons^ keys, &c. and pasting* npon 
them labels with their names printed in raised letters. These 
she felt very carefully, and soon of course distinguished that the 
crooked lines spoon differed as much from the crooked lines 
hey^ as the spoon differed from the key in form. Then small 
detached labels, with the same words printed upon them, were 
put into her hands ; and she soon observed that they were similar 
to the ones pasted on the articles. She showed her perception 
of this similarity by laying the label h e y upon the key, and the 
label s]^ oon upon the spoon. She was encouraged here by the 
natural sign of approbation — patting on the head. The same 
process was then repeated with all the articles which she could 
handle ; and she very easily learned to place the proper labels 
upon them. It was evident, however, that the only intellectual 
exercise was that of imitation and memory. She recollected that 
the label hook was placed upon a book, and she repeated the 
process first from imitation, next from memory, with only the 
motive of love of approbation, but apparently without the intel- 
lectual perception of any relation between the things. 

After a while, instead of labels the individual letters v/ere 
given to her on detached bits of paper ; they were arranged side 
by side so as to spell hook, key, &c. ; then they were mixed 
tip in a heap, and a sign was made for her to arraijge them her- 
self, so as to express the words hook, key, &c. ; and she did so. 
Hitherto the process had been mechanical, and the success about 
as great as teaching a very knowing dog a variety of tricks. 
The poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently imi- 
tated everything her teacher did ; but now the truth began to 
flash upon her ; her intellect began to work. She perceived that 
here was a way by which she could herself make up a sign of 
anything that was in her own mind, and show it to another 
mind ; and at once her countenance lighted up with a human 
expression. It was no long-er a dog or parrot ; it was an im- 
mortal spirit eagerly seizing upon a new link of union with other 
spirits ! I could almost -B-x upon the moment when this truth 
dawned upon her mind, and spread its light to her countenance ; 
I saw that the great obstacle was overcome, and that hence- 
forward nothing but patient and persevering^, but plain and 
straightforward efforts were to be used. The result thus far is 
quickly related and easily conceived, but not so was the process ; 
for many weeks of apparently unprofitable labour were passed 
before it was effected. 

AVhen it was said above that a sign was made, it was intended 
to say that the action was performed by her teacher, she feeling- 
his hands, and then imitating the motion. The next stej) was 
to procure a set of metal types, with the different letters of the 




alphabet cast upon their ends ; also a board, in whicli were square 
holeSj into whicli holes she could set the types, so that the letters 
on their ends could alone be felt above the surface. Then, on any 
article being* handed to her — for instance, a pencil or a watch — 
she would select the component letters and arrang-e them on her 
board, and read them with apparent pleasure. She was exercised 
for several weeks in this way, until her vocabulary became exten- 
sive ; and then the important step was taken of teaching* her how 
to represent the different letters by the position of her fing-ers, 
instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the board and types. She 
accomplished this speedily and easily, for her intellect had begun 
to work in aid of her teacher, and her progress was rapid. 

This was the period, about three months after she had com- 
menced, that the first report of her case was made, in which it 
is stated that ^ she has just learned the manual alphabet, as used 
hj the deaf-mutes ; and it is a subject of delight and wonder to 
see how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly, she goes on with her 
labours. Her teacher gives her a new object — for instance, a 
pencil — first lets her examine it, and get an idea of its use, then 
teaches her how to spell it by making the signs for the letters 
with her own fingers. The child grasps her hand, and feels her 
fingers as the different letters are formed ; she turns her head a 
little on one side, like a person listening closely; her lips are 
apart, she seems scarcely to breathe; and her countenance, at 
first anxious, gradually changes to a smile as she comprehends 
the lesson. She then holds up her tiny fingers, and spells the word 
in the manual alphabet ; next she takes her types and arranges 
her letters ; and last, to make sure that she is right, she takes 
the whole of the types composing the word, and places them upon 
or in contact with the pencil, or whatever the object may be.' 

The whole of the succeeding year was passed in gratifying her 
eager inquiries for the names of every object which she could 
possibly handle ; in exercising her in the use of the manual 
alphabet ; in extending in every possible way her knowledge of 
the physical relations of things; and in proper care of her health. 
At the end of the year a report of her case was made, from which 
the following is an extract : — ' It has been ascertained, beyond 
the possibility of doubt, that she cannot see a ray of light, cannot 
hear the least sound, and never exercises her sense of smell, if 
she have any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and stillness 
as profound as that of a closed tomb at midnight. Of beautiful 
sights, and sweet sounds, and pleasant odours, she has no con- 
ception ; nevertheless she seems as happy and playful as a bird 
or a lamb ; and the employment of her intellectual faculties, or 
the acquirement of a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure which 
is plainly marked in her expressive features. She never seems 
to repine, but has all the buoyancy and gaiety of childhood. She 
is fond of fun and frolic, and when playing with the rest of the 
children, her shrill laugh sounds loudest of the group. 



When left alonej slie seems very happy if she have her knit- 
ting or sewing", and will busy herself for hours ; if she have no 
occupation, she evidently amuses herself by imaginary dialogues, 
or by recalling past impressions. She counts with her lingers, 
or spells out names of things which she has recently learned in 
the manual alphabet of the deaf-mutes. In this lonely self-com- 
munion she seems to reason, reflect, and argue ; if she spell a 
word wrong with the lingers of her right hand, she instantly 
strikes it with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disappro- 
bation ; if right, then she pats herself upon the head, and looks 
pleased. She sometimes purposely spells a word wrong with the 
left hand, looks roguish for a moment and laughs, and then with 
the right hand strikes the left, as if to correct it. 

During the year, she has attained great dexterity in the use of 
the manual alphabet of the deaf-mutes ; and she spells out the 
w^ords and sentences which she knows so fast and so deftly, that 
only those accustomed to this language can follow with the eye 
the rapid motions of her lingers. But w^onderful as is the 
rapidity with which she writes her thoughts upon the air, still 
more so is the ease and accuracy with which she reads the words 
thus written by another, grasping their hands in hers, and fol- 
lowing every movement of their lingers, as letter after letter 
conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in this way that she 
converses with her blind playmates, and nothing can more 
forcibly show the power of mind in forcing matter to its purpose 
than a meeting between them ; for if great talent and skill are 
necessary for two pantomimes to paint their thoughts and feel- 
ings by the movements of the body, and the expression of the 
countenance, how much greater the difficulty when darkness 
shrouds them both, and the one can hear no sound ! ' 

During this year, and six months after she had left home, her 
mother came to visit her, and the scene of their meeting* was an 
interesting one. The mother stood some time gazing with over- 
flowing eyes upon her unfortunate child, who, all unconscious of 
her presence, was playing about the room. Presently Laura 
ran against her, and at once began feeling her hands, examining 
her dress, and trying to find out if she knew her ; but not suc- 
ceeding in this, she turned away as from a stranger, and the 
poor woman could not conceal the pang she felt at finding that 
her beloved child did not know her. 

She then gave Laura a string of beads which she used to wear 
at home, which were recognised by the child at once, who with 
much joy put them aroimd her neck, and sought me eagerly to 
say she understood the string was from her home. 

The mother now tried to caress her, but poor Laura repelled her, 
preferring to be with her acquaintances. Another article from 
home was now given her, and she began to look much interested ; 
she examined the stranger much closer, and g-ave me to under- 
stand that she knew she came from Hanover ; she even endured 




her caresses, but would leave lier with indifference at the slightest 
signal. The distress of the mother was now painful to behold ; 
for although she had feared that she should not be recognised, 
the painful reality of being treated with cold indifference by a 
darling child was too much for woman^s nature to bear. 

After a while, on the mother taking hold of her again, a vague 
idea seemed to flit across Laura^s mind that this could not be a 
stranger ; she therefore felt her hands very eagerly, while her 
countenance assumed an expression of intense interest ; she be- 
came ver}^ pale, and then suddenly red ; hope seemed struggling 
with doubt and anxiety, and never were contending emotions 
more strongly painted upon the human face. At this moment 
of painful uncertainty the mother drew her close to her side, and 
kissed her fondly, when at once the truth flashed upon the 
child, and all mistrust and anxiety disappeared from her face, as, 
with an expression of exceeding joy, she eagerly nestled to the 
bosom of her parent, and yielded herself to her fond embraces. 

After this the beads were all unheeded ; the playthings offered 
her were utterly disregarded; her playmates, for whom but a 
moment before she gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove to 
pull her from her mother; and though she yielded her usual in- 
stantaneous obedience to my signal to follow me, it was evidently 
with painful reluctance. She clung close to me, as if bewildered 
and fearful ; and when, after a moment, I took her to her mother, 
she sprang to her arms and clung to her with eager joy. 

The subsequent parting* between them showed alike the affec- 
tion, the intelligence, and the resolution of the child. Laura 
accompanied her mother to the door, clinging close to her all the 
way until they arrived at the threshold, where she paused and 
felt around to ascertain who was near her. Perceiving the 
matron, of whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one 
hand, holding on convulsively to her mother with the other, and 
thus she stood for a moment ; then she dropped her mother's 
hand, put her handkerchief to her eyes, and turning round, 
clung sobbing to the matron, while her mother departed with 
emotions as deep as those of her child. 

Her social feelings and her affections are very strong, and 
when she is sitting at work or at her studies by the side of one 
of her little friends, she will break off from her task every few 
moments to hug and kiss them with an earnestness and warmth 
that is touching to behold. When left alone she occupies and 
apparently amuses herself, and seems quite contented; and so 
strong seems to be the natural tendency of thought to put on the 
garb of language, that she often soliloquizes in thejinger Ian- 
guage, slow and tedious as it is. But it is only when alone that 
she is quiet ; for if she become sensible of the presence of any 
one near her, she is restless until she can sit close beside them, 
hold their hand, and converse with them by signs. In her in- 
tellectual character it is pleasing to observe an insatiable thirst 


for knowledg'e^ and a quick perception of the relations of things. 
In her moral character it is beautiful to behold her continual 
gladness, her keen enjoyment of existence, her expansive love, 
her unhesitating confidence, her sympathy with suffering, her 
conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness." 

Since this account was given to the world, other reports have 
heen issued, from which we learn that Laura continues a con- 
tented and improving inmate of the asylum for the blind at 
Boston. She now writes a legible hand, and can express ail 
simple ideas in words, uniting nouns with adjectives and verbs 
in a manner perfectly intelligible. She whites with a pencil in a 
grooved line. At first she was puzzled to comprehend the mean- 
ing of the process to which she was subjected ; but when the 
idea dawned upon her mind, that by means of it she could con- 
vey intelligence to her mother, her delight was unbounded. She 
applied herself with great diligence, and in a few months actually 
wrote a legible letter to her mother, in which she conveyed infor- 
mation of her being well, and of her coming home in ten weeks. 
It was indeed only the skeleton of a letter, but still it expressed 
in legible characters a vague outline of the ideas which were 
passing in her mind. 

We are told that she has latterly improved very much in per- 
sonal appearance as well as in intellect ; her countenance beams 
with intelligence ; she is always active at study, work, or play ; 
she never repines ; and most of her time is gay and frolicsome. 
She is now very expert with her needie, she knits easily, and 
can make twine bags and various fancy articles very prettily. 
She is very docile, has a quick sense of propriety, dresses herself 
with great neatness, and is always correct in her deportment. 
In short, it would be difficult to find a child in the possession of 
all her senses, and the enjoyment of the advantages that wealth 
and parental love can bestow, who is more contented and cheer- 
ful, or to whom existence seems a greater blessing, than it does 
to this bereaved creature, for whom the sun has no light, the air 
no sound, and the flowers no colour or smell. 

Mr Charles Dickens, who visited the asylum in the course of 
his journey in the states a few years ago, mentions, in his 
" American Notes," that he had an interview with Laura, whose 
condition greatly interested him. We take the liberty of extract- 
ing a few passages from the account of his visit. 

'^The thought occurred to me," he observes, "as I sat down 
before a girl blind, deaf, and dumb, destitute of smell, and nearly 
so of taste ; before a fair young creature with every human 
faculty, and hope, and power of goodness and affection, enclosed 
within her delicate frame, and but one outward sense — the sense 
of touch. There she was before me, built up, as it were, in a 
marble cell, impervious to any ray of light or particle of sound, 
with her poor white hand peeping through a chink in the wall, 
beckoning to some good man for help, that an immortal soul 


might be awakened. Long* before I looked upon ber, the help 
had come. Her face was radiant with intelligence and pleasure. 
Her hair, braided by her own hands, was bound about a head 
whose intellectual capacity and development were beautifully 
expressed in its graceful outline and its broad open brow ; her 
dress, arranged by herself, was a pattern of neatness and simpli- 
city ; the work she had knitted lay beside her ; her writing-book 
was on the desk she leaned upon. From the mournful ruin of 
such bereavement, there had slowly risen up this gentle, tender^ 
guileless, grateful-hearted being. Like other inmates of that 
house, she had a green ribbon bound round her eyelids. A doll 
she had dressed lay near upon the ground. I took it up, and saw 
that she had made a green fillet such as she wore herself, and 
fastened it about its mimic eyes. She was seated in a little en- 
closure, made by school-desks and forms, writing her daily jour- 
nal. But soon finishing this pursuit, she engaged in an animated 
communication with a teacher who sat beside her. This was a 
favourite mistress with the poor pupil. If she could see the face 
of her fair instructress, she would not love her less, I am sure. 

I turned over the leaves of her diary, and found it written in 
a fair legible square hand, and expressed in terms which were 
quite intelligible without any explanation. On m}^ sayings that 
I should like to see her write again, the teacher who sat beside 
her bade her, in their language, sign her name upon a slip of 
paper twice or thrice. In doing so, I observed that she kept 
her left hand always touching and following up her right, in 
which, of course, she held the pen. No line was indicated by 
any contrivance, but she wrote straight and freely. 

She had, until now, been quite unconscious of the presence of 
visitors ; but having her hand placed in that of the gentleman 
who accompanied me, she immediately expressed his name upon 
her teacher's palm. Indeed her sense of touch is now so exqui- 
site, that having been acquainted with a person once, she can 
recognise him or her after almost any interval. This gentleman 
had been in her company, I believe, but very seldom, and cer- 
tainly had not seen her for many months. My hand she rejected 
at once, as she does that of any man who is a stranger to her. 
But she retained my wife^s with evident pleasure, kissed her^ 
and examined her dress with a girPs curiosity and interest. She 
was merry and cheerful, and showed much innocent playfulness 
in her intercourse with her teacher. Her delight on recog-nising 
a favourite playfellow and companion — herself a blind girl — who 
silently, and with an equal enjoyment of the coming surprise, 
took a seat beside her, was beautiful to witness. It elicited from 
her at first, as other slight circumstances did twice or thrice 
during my visit, an uncouth noise which was rather painful to 
hear. But on her teacher touching her lips, she immediately 
desisted, and embraced her laughingly and affectionately.^^ 

We learn from the further account of Mr Dickens, that there 



was in this institution a boj named Oliver Caswell, who had 
been deaf and blind since he was a few months old, and was now 
at thirteen years of age in a state resembling* that of Laura 
Bridgman. By the same kind attentions, he w^as learning to read 
by the touch, and to communicate his ideas by the fingers. With 
respect to Laura, adds our author in conclusion, Dr Howe " is 
occupied now in devising means of imparting to her higher 
knowledge, and of conveying to her some adequate idea of the 
Great Creator of that universe in which, dark, silent, and scent- 
less though it be to her, she has such deep delight and glad 


Of the performances of persons who have been blind from 
early infancy — their remarkable tact in finding their way unas- 
sisted, their accurate memory of events and places, their skill 
and taste in music, their dexterity in many operations in science 
and art, and their acquirements in other respects, numerous 
anecdotes might be related. The following will be read with a 
degree of interest, as exemplifying the abilities of this unfor- 
tunate class of individuals : — 

John Metcalf. — The case of this person has always been 
spoken of as bordering on the marvellous, though as he did not 
lose his sight till he was six years of age, and after he had been 
at school two years, the wonder is considerably lessened. John 
was the son of poor parents, and was born at Knaresborough in 
Yorkshire in 1717. After recovering from the disease which 
deprived him of sight, he continued to take part in boyish sports 
with his companions as formerly, roamed fearlessly over fields, 
w^alls, and ditches, learned to ride on horseback, to take a hand at 
whist, bowls, and other g-ames. Swimming was another of his 
accomplishments, and he performed feats in this department 
which astonished everybody. On one occasion, w^hen two men 
were drowned in the Nidd, he was employed to dive for their 
bodies, and succeeded in bringing- up one of them. 

Music, the usual resource of the blind, was not neglected by 
Metcalf. Before he reached the age of sixteen, he had acquired 
such proficiency on the violin, as to be engaged as a performer 
both at Knaresborough and at Harrowgate, where he Avas much 
liked and caressed. With his earnings as a musical performer, 
he bought a horse, and not only rode frequently in the hunting- 
field, but ran his horse for small plates at York and elsewhere. 
On one occasion he engaged, for a considerable stake, to ride his 
own horse three times round a circular course of a mile in length 
against another party. As it was believed that Metcalf would 
never be able to keep the course, large odds were taken against 
him ; but by the ingenious plan of stationing persons with bells 
at diiferent points, he not only kept the circle, but won the race. 



At the age of twenty-one^ Jolin Metcalf was six feet one inch 
and a half in height, and extremely robust in person. He was 
so lively in spirits, and so quick in his motions, that few per- 
ceived his want at a casual glance ; nor durst any one presume 
so far upon his defects as to ill-use or insult him. Not deterred 
hy his privation, he paid his addresses to Miss Benson, the 
daughter of a respectable innkeeper at Harrowgate, to whom he 
was married. After assuming this serious engagement, he con- 
tinued to perform during- every season at Harrowgate, increasing 
his income by keeping a chaise or two for hire. Being indefa- 
tigable in his search for means of bettering* the condition of his 
family, he also travelled, at intervals of professional leisure, to the 
coast for fish, which he brought to the markets of Leeds and 
Manchester. Such was his quickness and ingenuity, that no ac- 
cident ever happened to himself or his horses on these journeys. 

When the rebellion broke out in 1745, Met calf ^s stirring spirit 
led him to join the English army as a musician, and he remained 
with them up till the victory of Culloden. He then returned 
home, but not until he had formed a plan of future employment 
from what he had learned — for we can scarcely say observed — 
in Scotland. He adopted the idea that a number of the cotton 
and worsted manufactures of the north would sell well in Eng- 
land, and accordingly he made one or two journeys back to 
Scotland for these stuffs, which he disposed of in Yorkshire. 
Among a thousand articles, he knew exactly what each cost him, 
from a peculiar mode of marking. Still this trafficking did 
not prove suitable for a permanent line of life, and in 1751 he 
commenced driving a stage -wagon, twice a -week in summez^ 
and once in winter, between York and Knaresboroug^h. This 
employment apparently drew^ his attention to the subject of 
roads, and fixed him in the pursuit which finally gained him 
his chief celebrity, and proved a source of no slig'ht advan- 
tage to his country. During his leisure hours he had studied 
mensuration in a w^ay peculiar to himself, and when certain 
of the girth and length of any piece of timber, could re- 
duce its contents to feet and inches, or could bring the 
dimensions of any building into yards and feet. In short, he 
had formed for himself accurate and practical modes of mensu- 
ration. At this time it chanced that a new piece of road, about 
three miles long, was wanted between Fearnsby and Minskip. 
Being well acquainted with the locality, he proposed to contract 
for it, and his offer was accepted. The materials for the road 
were to be taken from one quarry, and there, with his wonted 
activity, he erected temporary houses, hired horses, fixed racks 
and mangers, and set the work a-going Avith great spirit. He 
completed the road much sooner than was expected by the trus- 
tees, and in every v/ay to their satisfaction. 

Thus commenced the most remarkable portion of this man's 
life. Metcalf soon undertook other road contracts, and, strange 



to say, succeeded in laying down good lines where others were 
hopeless of success. In Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and 
Derbyshire, during a period of nearly forty years, he pursued 
the employment of road-making and bridge-building, being by 
far the most noted and esteemed follower of such occupations in 
those parts. The large bridge at Boroughbridge, and various 
others, might be named as proofs of his abilities and success. An 
anecdote is told which will exhibit the ingenious way in which 
he overcame difficulties which staggered other surveyors. Among 
the numerous roads for which he contracted was one on the Man- 
chester line between Blackmoor and Standish-Foot. The original 
surveyor took the new line over deep marshes, which, in the 
opinion of the trustees and all concerned, seemed only passable 
by cutting or digging the earth till a solid bottom was found. 
This plan appeared to Metcalf tedious and expensive, and he 
attempted to prove to the trustees that such was the case ; but 
they were fixed in their original views, and only permitted the 
blind road-maker to follow his own way, on condition that he 
should afterwards execute their plan if his own failed. Metcalf 
began to his task. The worst part of the line was on Standish 
Common, where a deep bog existed, which it seemed impossible 
to cut a road through. Metcalf set his men to work in cutting 
a line, and draining off the water, as far as that was possible. So 
little progress, however, was at first made, that everybody 
laughed at the poor blind man, who, it was thought, would have 
given up the task in despair had he had his eyes like other 
people. Nevertheless he proceeded unweariedly, until he had 
levelled the bog across, and he then ordered his men to collect 
heather or ling, and bind it in round bundles which they could 
span with their hands. These bundles were laid down close 
together on the cut line, and successive bundles laid over them 
again, after which they were covered and pressed down with 
stones and gravel. The issue was, that this portion of the road, 
when completed, was so remarkably firm and good, that it needed 
no repairs for twelve years, while other parts required frequent 
repairs. Even in winter it was perfectly dry. 

It was Metcalf s custom, in making purchases of wood, hay, 
or stones, to span the articles with his arms, and then calculate 
the amount mentally. Having learned the height, he could tell 
with great accuracy what number of square yards were contained 
in a stack of grain, of any value between one and fiVe hundred 
pounds. His memory was astonishing, and it was no doubt 
principally by this faculty that he was enabled to traverse so 
many towns, and ride along so many roads. While in York, on 
one occasion, a friend of his, the landlord of the George inn, 
asked him as a personal favour to guide a gentleman towards 
Harrowgate. This place lay in Metcalf s own way, and he 
agreed to the request upon condition that his blindness was 
kept a secret from the o;'entleman. The pair accordmgly started, 



l>otli on horseback^ and Metcalf taking* tlie lead. By a little 
dexterity, Metcalf contrived to pass some gates without leading 
to a suspicion of the truth, and finally the travellers entered a 
forest beyond Knaresborough, where there was as yet no turn- 
pike. Evening came on, and by asking his companion if he 
saw lights in particular directions, Metcalf brought the journey 
to. a safe close, though in those daj^s a man with all his eyes about 
him might well have strayed from the path. On landing* at the 
Granby inn, the two travellers took some warm liquor, after which 
Metcalf retired. Having noticed some difficulty on the part of 
his companion in lifting the glass, the gentleman remarked to the 
landlord that his guide had surely taken drink since his arrival. 
" I judge so,'' added he, "from the appearance of his eyes.'' " Eyes ! 
bless you, sir, don't you know that he is blind 1 " " Blind ! " cried 
the traveller ; "surely that cannot be ; he acted as my guide." " I 
can assure you, sir, he is as blind as a stone ; but you shall judge 
for yourself." Metcalf was called in, and his late companion, yet 
trembling with agitation, exclaimed, " Had I known your con- 
dition, sir, I would not have ventured with you for a hundred 
pounds ! " " And I," said Metcalf, " would not have lost my 
way for a thousand ! " 

The nicety of touch which Metcalf had acquired was very 
wonderful. He could play at cards with no other guide ; and 
when persons were by on whom he could depend, he frequently 
played for serious stakes, and won through the advantage of his 
uncommon memory. Even when no friend v/as near him, it 
would have been ver}^ difficult for an opponent to have taken 
unfair advantage, such was his acuteness of ear and powers of 
observation. One occasion is mentioned where he won eighteen 
guineas from strangers at cards. 

In the summer of 1788, Mr Metcalf lost his wife, who had 
brought him four children. He had before this realised a hand- 
some sum by his road and bridge contracts, but he lost consider- 
ably in his old days by some cotton speculations into which he 
was led by his enterprising spirit. In 1792, he gave up his 
extensive engagements, and settled at Spotsforth, near Wetherby, 
in his native county. Here, having retained a's much of his 
fortune as to secure a comfortable independence, he spent his 
latter days in happy ease in the bosom of his family. He died 
in the year 1802. 

Of the attainment of skill in the arts by the blind, we have 
perhaps a still more remarkable case in that of the late Mr Strong 
of Carlisle. Although blind from birth, he acquired a thorough 
knowledge of diaper weaving, and was an adept in various mecha- 
nical arts ; among other things, he constructed many articles 
of household furniture, and the m.odel of a loom with a figure 
working it. The following anecdote is related of him while a 
boy of fifteen years of age. He concealed himself one afternoon 


in the cathedral during the time of service ; after the congreg-a- 
tion was gone and the doors shut, he got into the organ-loft, 
and examined every part of the instrument. This had engaged 
his attention till about midnight, when, having satisfied himself 
respecting the general construction, he proceeded to try the tones 
of the different stops and the proportion they bore to each other ; 
this experiment was not to be conducted in so silent a manner. 
In short, the noise alarmed the neighbourhood, and some people 
went to see what was the matter, when Joseph was found playing" 
the organ. The next day he was taken before the dean, who, 
after reprimanding him for the step he had taken in order to 
gratify his curiosity, gave him leave to play it whenever he 
pleased. In consequence of this, he set about making a chamber 
organ, which he completed without the assistance of anybody. 
He sold this instrument to a mechanic in the Isle of Man, where 
it is still to be seen. Soon after this he made another, on which 
he played both for amusement and devotion. 

In Scotland some interesting cases of blind persons arriving 
at dexterity in the arts could be produced. We have seen many 
figures of fair proportions and of delicate finish come from the 
hand of a blind man — his only instruments being the blades of 
a common pocket-knife. The daily work of another w^hom we 
knew was the fashioning of ornamental spoons, paper-folders, 
and the like, by which he gained for himself a more than com- 
fortable livelihood. We believe the Laurencekirk snuff-boxes 
were originally executed by a blind man, and certainly nothing 
could surpass them for accuracy of form and beauty of finish. 
What is more wonderful, there is (or was lately) residing in a 
country town in Scotland, a blind person who follows the pro- 
fession of an optician. This respectable individual grinds and 
polishes lenses of all shapes w^ith the most perfect accuracy, and 
fits them to the exact focal distances with an aptitude which 
could not be surpassed by any one possessing the most perfect 
vision. That a person altogether blind is thus able to supply a 
customer with exactly the kind of spectacles he requires, is surely 
a fine instance of the compensatory powers in the human faculties 
and energies. The ingenious individual to whom we refer pos- 
sesses a touch so delicate that he can detect not only the most 
minute flaw on the surface of a lens, but can tell where the form 
departs in the least from the required convexity or concavity. 
We have likewise heard it mentioned that he can by feeling 
distinguish decided colours in cloth, such as black, red, green, or 
blue, from others of a fainter tint. 

There are, we believe, few districts in England and Scotland 
which have not produced proficients on the viohn who were 
blind ; and in a like manner Ireland can show its illustrious 
catalogue of blind performers on the national harp. Among the 
most remarkable harp players of a past age, w^as the famous 
Hempson, who died in 1807 at the age of 112, having been born 



in 1695. Hempson lost his sight when three years old, and being" 
taug-ht the harp while still a youth, he devoted himself with 
extraordinary ardour to the playing of the old national airs. 
Travelling" from place to place with his harp, and playing at the 
houses of the nobility and gentry, where he was very acceptable, 
he visited most parts of Ireland and Scotland ; and in 1745 had 
the honour of playing before Prince Charles Stuart at Holyrood. 
Latterly, when no longer able to travel, he lived in the house of 
his daughter ; and such was his attachment to his harp, that he 
kept it constantly beside him in bed. A gentleman who visited 
him in 1805^ when he was 110 years of age, mentions that, 
gratified with a call from an old friend, he started up in bed, 
and tuning the ancient companion of his wanderings, played 
some of the line old airs of Ireland with indescribable feeling* 
and delicacy. Hempson left few successors, the national instru- 
ment having gone almost out of use in Ireland. There is still, 
however, one blind Irish harper — we might call him the last of 
the minstrels— Mr Patrick Byrne, v/ho makes a livelihood by 
playing to parties, and for this purpose he travels, like Hempson, 
through different parts of England and Scotland, as well as his 
own country. Byrne is a well-informed, modest, and agreeable 
man, and is a delightful performer on his instrument. Such is 
his confidence in himself, that he walks everywhere without a 
guide : he successfully gropes his way through the streets of the 
largest cities to the houses he intends to visit. 

Of all the exploits in the way of travelling by blind persons, 
we imagine none excels those of Mr James Holman, usually 
styled the blind traveller. Mr Holman was bred to the naval 
profession, in which he had hopes of gaining" distinction, w^hen 
at twenty-five years of age his prospects were irrecoverably 
blighted by an illness leading to loss of sight. After the distress- 
ing feelings which accompanied the first shock of his bodily pri- 
vation had in some degree subsided, the active mind began to 
seek for occupation and amusement, and finally pitched on loco- 
motion. Acquiring an insatiable thirst for moving about, and if 
not seeing, at least hearing from description on the spot what each 
place and scene was like, he began to travel into foreign countries. 
Thus, between 1819 and 1821 he travelled through France, Italy, 
Savoy, Switzerland, ^Darts of Germany bordering on the Rhine, 
Holland, and Belgium, of all which countries he has published a 
lively description. In 1827 he undertook a far grander expedition 
— a voyage round the world, which occupied him till 1832. What 
he heard and felt during this hazardous enterprise, which took 
him through Africa, Asia, Australia, and America, has also been 
described in a published narrative extending to several volumes. 

Nothing more strikingly exemplifies the pliancy of the human 
faculties than the pleasure which this unfortunate gentleman 
derives from his examinations of remote and obscure parts of the 
globe, in the midst of numerous dangers and difficulties. Speak- 



ing of an exploring' expedition on tlie coast of Africa in wMcli 
he was concerned, and wliicli required liim to marcli for several 
days inland to visit a tribe of natives, he observes—" I have ever 
throughout life, but perhaps more particularly since the loss of 
my sight, felt an intense interest in entering into association 
with human nature, and observing human character in its more 
primitive forms : this propensity I have previously had opportu- 
nities of enjoying in some of the countries most remote from 
European knowledge, amidst the wilds of Tartary and the deserts 
of Siberia ; and I can refer to the indulgence of it many of my 
more pleasurable emotions. I believe the intensity of my enjoy- 
ment under the system I have adopted equals, if not surpasses, 
what other travellers experience who journey with them open. 
It is true I see nothing visibly ; but, thank God, I possess most 
exquisitely the other senses, which it has pleased Providence to 
leave me endowed with ; and I have reason to believe that my 
deficiency of sight is in a considerable degree compensated by a 
greater abundance of the pov/ers of the imagination which en- 
ables me to form ideal pictures from the description of others, 
which, as far as my experience goes, I have reason to believe 
constitute fair and correct representations of the objects they 
were originally derived from." We may safely aver that after 
the success which has attended Mr Holman's efforts, no man 
need be afraid to travel over the world blindfold. 

It may have been remarked by those who have given attention 
to the physical disabilities of the blind, the deaf, and the dumb, 
that blindness alone is much less a disqualification in point of 
mental aptitude than congenital deafness. The difference arises 
from the impossibility of conveying intelligence to the mind by 
spoken language. The blind can be made to comprehend many 
things by means of oral communication, which the deaf cannot 
readily acquire by any species of literature. Spoken language 
is the means pointed out by nature to communicate ideas, to 
express emotions and sentiments of every kind ; literature, at 
best, is only an auxiliary, and fails to convey the refinements of 
expression, the delicacies of feeling, utterable by the tongue. 
On this account, it may be doubted if the most accomplished 
deaf and dumb scholar can be made to possess a nice perception 
of philosophical reasoning, or be able to write with force, elo- 
quence, and precision. In ordinary circumstances, deaf-mutes, 
even after lengthened instruction, fail to write with grammatical 
accuracy ; so much do they lose by never having heard spoken 
language, and their ignorance of the value of sounds. We have 
seen, in the foregoing notices, that blindness does not prevent 
the attainment of a certain proficiency in arts requiring a know- 
ledge of the beautiful and the exact in form. The deaf-mute 
from birth, however, rarely attains this distinction. We hear 
of a hundred blind musicians and poets for one congenitally 
deaf painter, sculjDtor, or author. 



Among' the long roll of blind poets who have gained a death- 
less fame for their effusions, two distinguished names will readily 
occur to remembrance — those of Homer and Milton. Happily 
for themselves these renowned followers of the Muses had not 
been always blind, and having made good use of their eyes in 
youth, they had little difficulty in presenting finished pictures 
of natural scenery and other visible objects of creation which are 
to be found in their compositions. Blind Harry, an eminent 
Scottish poet of the era of Chaucer, was less fortunate, as he was 
blind from birth, yet has presented many vivid descriptions of 
natural scenery. Dr Blacklock, the early friend and patron of 
Burns, blind from infancy, left behind him poetical compositions- 
remarkable for their taste and feeling. But of modern blind 
poets none has excelled Carolan, the celebrated Irish musician 
and lyrical writer. A piece which he composed in his native 
Irish on the death of his wife — an event he did not long survive 
— has been generally admired. From a translation we extract 
the following lines. 

" Once every thought and every scene was gay. 

Friends, mirth, and music, all my hours employed — 
Now doomed to mourn my last sad years away, 

My life a solitude, my heart a void 1 
Alas, the change ! — to change again no more— • 

For every comfort is with Mary fled ; 
And ceaseless anguish shall her loss deplore, 

Till age and sorrow join me with the dead. 

Adieu each gift of nature and of art. 

That erst adorned me in life's early prime ! 
Tlie cloudless temper, and the social heart ! 

The soul ethereal, and the flights sublime ! 
Thy loss, my Mary, chased them from my breast, 

Thy sweetness cheers, thy judgment aids no more ; 
The Muse deserfcs a heart with grief opprest, 

And lost is every joy that charmed before." 

How far the deaf may be made to acquire an idea of sounds;^ 
has been a subject of much conjecture. In comparatively few 
cases is the auditory nerve entirely destroyed, and it is often only 
in a state of dormancy or secluded by superficial disease from the 
action of sounds. We have seen how the unfortunate boy Mit- 
chell delighted in tingling a key or tuning-fork on his teeth. 
The greater number of those who are ordinarily considered deaf 
are keenly alive to sensations produced by music, when the in- 
strument is brought in contact with their persons. We are told 
of a lady in Paris who tried an experiment upon a young woman 
who was both deaf and dumb. She ^fastened a silk thread about 
the girl's mouth, and rested the other end upon her pianoforte, 
upon which she played a pathetic air ; her visitor soon appeared 
much affected, and at length burst into tears. When she recovered, 
she wrote down upon a piece of paper that she had experienced a 
delight which she could not express, and that it had forced her 



to weep. Another anecdote of the power of music over a pupil 
at the institution for deaf-mutes in Paris has been mentioned to 
us. The hand of a girl was placed on the harmonica — a musical 
instrument which is said to have a powerful influence over the 
nerves — whilst it vv^as playing; she was then asked if she felt 
any sensation ; she answered that she felt a new sensation enter 
the ends of her fingers^ pass up her arms, and penetrate her 

It is mentioned in a German journal, that, in 1750, a merchant 
of Cleves, named Jorrisen, who had become almost totally deaf, 
sitting one day near a harpsichord where some persons were 
playing, and having a tobacco-pipe in his mouth, the bowl of 
which rested against the body of the instrument, he was agree- 
ably surprised to hear all the notes in the most distinct manner. 
By a little reflection and practice he again obtained the use of 
this valuable sense ; for he soon learned by means of a piece of 
hard wood, one end of which he placed against his teeth, to keep 
up a conversation, and to be able to understand the least whisper. 
He soon afterwards made his beneficial discovery the subject of 
an inaugurate dissertation, published at Halle in 1754. The 
efl*ect is the same if the person who S23eaks rests the stick against 
his throat or his breast, or when one rests the stick which he holds 
in his teeth against some vessel into which the other speaks. 

Various devices have been adopted to teach the blind to read, 
the most successful being that in which raised letters are em- 
ployed ; the touch of the fingers answering the purpose of sight. 
To perfect this species of printing for the blind, several kinds of 
letters, all more or less arbitrary in form, have been tried, in 
each case with some degTee of success. In our opinion, however, 
no kind of letter is so suitable as the ordinary Roman capitals ; 
because they have the advantage of being intelligible to the see- 
ing without any special instruction, and can be at once adopted 
by persons who have lost their sight after having been taught 
to read. Under the fostering care of a benevolent gentleman 
(Mr Alston), a number of books in Roman capitals has been 
printed for the use of the asylum for the blind in Glasgow, as 
well as for general sale ; and we believe they have been very 
generally acceptable. In this literature for the blind is the entire 
Bible, several works of piety, and some volumes of elementary 
science and general knowledge. On this plan of raised figures 
susceptible to the touch, maps and globes for teaching geography 
have been formed for the use of the blind, and are now intro- 
duced into all well-conducted asylums. It need scarcely be 
added, that by means of the literature and other apparatus we 
mention, the blind are now in most instances instructed in the 
more familiar branches of learnings; and with the industrial 
exercises which they acquire, they enjoy a position in society 
and scale of intelligence very different from that which was 
occupied by their less fortunate predecessors. 




P^HE continent of Asia, as 
may be observed on look- 
ing* at a map, terminates 
on the south in three pen- 
insulee projected into the 
Indian Ocean — one being* 
Arabia, the second Hin- 
dostan or India, and the 
third Siam ; this last bein^ 
iong'er and narrower than 
the others, and ending in 
a projection called Malaya, 
near the extremity of which 
is the settlement of Ma- 
lacca. Carrying our eye 
across the Indian Ocean, 
we observe that off the 
southern point of Malaya 
there are numerous islands 
of larger and smaller dimen- 
the sea for hundreds 

of miles is studded with them, and group after group stretches 

across the ocean almost to the northern shores of Australia. As 

these islands lie in an easterly direction from India, they are 

No. 53. 1 


sometimes styled the Eastern Archipelago^ and at otlier times 
the Spice Islands^ because their chief produce, or at least articles 
of export, are pepper, cloves, nutmegs, ginger, and other spices. 
The principal of these fine islands are Siunatra, Java, Borneo, 
Celebes, Timor, and the Moluccas — the latter being more strictly 
called the Spice Islands hj geographers ; but all are equally 
entitled to be classed under this distinctive appellation. To -the 
north of Borneo, in the Chinese Sea, lies an additional group of 
islands, the Philippines ; but of these it is here unnecessary to 

Travellers who have visited the Spice Islands describe some of 
them as a kind of earthly paradise. Ikying* under the equinoctial 
line, their climate is excessively hot, but they are daily fanned 
by sea breezes, which temper their heated atmosphere ; from their 
mountains flow streams of pure water ; their valleys are green 
and picturesque ; and the luxuriance of their vegetation is beyond 
anything that the natives of northern Europe can imagine. In 
their thick groves swarm parrots and other birds of the gayest 
plumage; monkeys of various species are seen skipping from 
rock to rock, or darting in and out among the bushes ; and wild 
beasts and snakes live in their thickets and jungles. The native 
inhabitants, whose wants are easily supplied, spend the greater 
part of their time in the open air, cultivating their fields, or 
reclining under awnings, or beneath the more delicious shade of 
the nutmeg trees. 

Inhabited chiefly by an aboriginal Malay race, some of the 
islands are still under the government of native chiefs or sultans ; 
but most of them have been, in whole or part, appropriated by 
European powers. The Portuguese, being the first navigators who 
reached this part of the world by sailing round the Cape of Good 
Hope, acquired large possessions not only in India but in the East- 
ern Archipelago ; but towards the end of the sixteenth century, the 
Dutch, animated by a vigorous spirit of commercial enterprise, 
dispossessed the Portuguese, and gained the ascendency in Java 
and other islands, finally reducing them to the condition of 
Dutch colonies — a change of masters which we shall immediately 
see brought no advantage to the unfortunate natives. The 
object of the Dutch in getting possession of these remote Asiatic 
islands was to procure spices, wherewith to supply the general 
market of Europe ; and as this was long an exceedingly profit- 
able trade, no pains were spared to keep the Spice Islands as a 
kind of preserve for the special benefit of Holland. 

We have two reasons for introducing these islands and their 
history to our readers — the first is, to show how selfishness in 
trade, like selfishness in everything else, is weakness and loss, 
and how benevolence is power and gain ; the second is, to point 
out, by way of example, how much may be done to remedy the 
greatest grievances, and produce national happiness, by the 
efforts of one enlightened and generously-disposed mind. In the 



performance of this task, we shall have occasion to notice bio- 
graphically one of the few great statesmen whom England has 
within the last half century had the good fortune to produce — 
Thomas Stamford Eaffies. 


For convenience we begin with an account of Java^ one of the 
largest and finest of the Spice Islands. Java is separated from 
Borneo on the north by a channel called the Java Sea, and on 
the north-west from Sumatra by the Straits of Sunda. The 
island is upwards of 650 miles long, and from 60 to 180 miles 
broad ; its whole area being about equal to that of England. Its 
surface is beautifully diversified with hill and valley ; its soil is 
of the richest possible nature, and yields in abundance coffee, 
sugar, rice, pepper, nutmegs, and ginger. 

Java appears to have been peopled by a branch of the Malay 
race about the commencement of the Christian era. From that 
period to the fifteenth century, the Javanese increased in conse- 
quence and opulence, and acquired a civilisation scarcely inferior 
to that of the Hindoos or the Chinese ; evidences of which exist in 
the traditions of the natives, in their literature, and in numerous 
architectural remains scattered over the island. Mahommedan- 
ism latterly found its way into Java, and became mingled with 
the doctrines and ceremonies of Buddhism and Hindooism, which 
had hitherto been the religions of the people. The Portuguese 
settled in the island in 1511 ; the English also established them- 
selves in it in 1602 ; but ultimately the Dutch dispossessed both, 
and became the only European power. They continued to 
enjoy this sway undisturbed till the year 1811, a period of two 
hundred years. 

Any one who visited the island in 1811, would have found it 
generally in a more barbarous condition than it was -Rve hundred 
years before. It was divided into three sections : — 1. The Dutch 
possessions, properly so called, meaning that part in which the 
Dutch power was absolute ; 2. The kingdom of the Susuhunan, 
or hereditary Javanese emperor ; and, 3. The territories of the 
Sultan, another native prince. The last two sections, however, 
were not really independent — they were subordinate or tributary 
to the Dutch. At this period the entire population amounted to 
about five millions, consisting of Dutch, Javanese, foreigners, 
and slaves. 

The Dutch inhabited principally the provinces of Jacatra 
and Bantam in the west, and the northern line of coast as far 
as the small island of Madura. Here they had built nume- 
rous towns and villages, the two largest being the city of 
Batavia, the population of which at one time exceeded 160,000, 
and the city of Surabaya, with a population of about 80,000. 
Firmly fixed in their possessions, and supported by a military and 
naval force, the Dutch seem to have had but one object in view, 


and that was to monopolise tlie whole trade, internal and exter- 
nal, of Java and that of the adjacent islands owning their autho- 
rity. In Europe, no people had struggled so heroically for civil 
and religious liberty as the Dutch; in India, no people acted 
with greater selfishness and tyranny. Their whole policy was a 
violation of justice and decency. ]Determined to monopolise the 
whole East India trade, they were guilty of an immense amount 
of bloodshed in their eiforts to eradicate every semblance of a 
colony in their neighbourhood belonging to any other nation, 
and likely therefore to deprive them of a share of the spice-trade. 
Not only so, but in order to derive a greater profit from the sale 
of the nutmegs and cloves which they exported from the Moluccas, 
they hired the natives to extirpate the plants in all the islands of 
the group except Banda and Amboyna, the two of whose per- 
manent possession they were most secure. The same miserable 
and blighting spirit of monopoly presided over their g^overnment 
of Java. In a part of the Dutch section of the island, the province 
of Jacatra, in which the city of Batavia is situated, the Dutch 
authorities governed the population directly and immediately; 
in the rest of the section, namely, the province of Bantam and 
the line of territory along the northern coast to the Straits of 
Madura, they employed native Javanese chiefs as their subordi- 
nate governors, with various titles. In both, the system of 
government w^as nearly alike. In the Dutch portion, the people 
were compelled to sell the whole produce of their lands to 
government at a fixed price ; in the other, the native regents of 
the various districts, besides paying a larg^e tribute on their own 
account, were obliged to collect the v\^hole produce of their dis- 
tricts, and hand it over as before to the authorities at a fixed 
price. Thus, over all the Dutch possessions in Java, the govern- 
ment had a monopoly of the produce, including the food of the 
population. Keceiving the grain, the coffee, and the pepper from 
the growers at very low prices, the}^- stored them up, and then 
sold them back again to the people themselves at an exceedingly 
high charge, reserving the surplus quantity for exportation. 
Thus, a person was obliged to sell to the government the pepper 
which he had produced at twopence a pound, and then to pur- 
chase back part of it for his own use at a shilling a pound. 
These arrangements were felt as a sore grievance by the poor 
cultivators of the soil, especially in those portions of the island 
which were nominally under a native regent ; for there, in addi- 
tion to the demands of the Dutch government, they had to sub- 
mit to the exactions of a subordinate. The king- of Bantam, for 
example, handed over every year to the Dutch government the 
produce of his province, amounting to nearl}^ six millions of 
pounds of pepper, at twopence a pound ; but instead of paying- his 
subjects so much as twopence a pound for it, he paid them say 
only three-halfpence a pound, reserving the additional halfpenny 
to pay the cost of collection, and to constitute a revenue for 



himself. A system of finance more confused, wasteful, and un- 
enlightened, cannot be conceived ; and a similar spirit of tyranny 
and"^ monopoly characterised ail the other branches of govern- 
ment procedure. 

The native Javanese were spread all over the island, part of 
them, as has been said, inhabiting the Butch territory, and 
living under the Dutch government, the rest inhabiting the 
comparatively independent territories ruled over by the two 
native sovereigns, the susuhiman or emperor, and the sultan. 
These two sovereigns were not, like the king of Bantam, or the 
regents of other districts in the Dutch possessions, mere revenue 
officers of the Dutch ; on the contrary, they enjoyed a des- 
potic dignity within their own kingdoms, and the only formal 
token of their connexion with the Dutch was their consenting 
annually to sell to them a certain quantity of their produce at 
a fixed price. This distinction, however, did not produce any 
great difference in habits or character between the Javanese 
of the interior and the Javanese of the Dutch provinces, so 
that the same description will suit both. The Javanese are 
described as a people generally shorter in stature than the Euro- 
peans, but robust and well made, with a round face, high fore- 
head, small dark eyes like those of the Tartars, prominent cheek- 
bones, scarcely any beard, and lank black hair. The general 
expression of the countenance is placid and thoughtful; the com- 
j)lexion is rather of a yellow than of a copper hue, the standard 
of beauty in this respect being a gold colour. The Javanese are 
sagacious and docile, generally listless in their appearance, but 
susceptible of all kinds of impressions, and capable of being 
roused to the wildest displays of passion. They possess a lite- 
rature consisting principally of native songs and romances, and 
translations from the Sanscrit and Arabic. The language is 
exceedingly simple in its structure, and remarkably rich in 
synonymous words ; and the Javanese written character is said 
to be one of the most beautiful known. The natives have also 
a rude kind of drama; and they delight in games of chance. 
The only kind of manufacture for which the people are cele- 
brated is working in gold. They show, however, considerable 
skill in ship -building, and in agriculture they are eminently 
proficient, every Javanese regarding the soil as the grand source 
of prosperity and wealth, not only to the province as a whole, 
but to himself individually. 

Of foreign settlers in the island, there were, and continue to 
be, about 200,000, consisting of Hindoos, Arabs, and Chinese. 
The Chinese, forming the larger proportion, are an active money- 
making class, carrying on various profitable branches of trade, 
and often contriving to enrich themselves by renting and sub- 
letting' land at greatly increased rates. The}^^ however, do not 
settle permanently ; after a residence of a few years, they return 
to their own country with the small fortunes they have acquired. 



The remaining" class of tlie population of Java is tliat of slaves, 
of whom, in 1811, there were about 30,000, the importation of 
these unfortunate being's having* been at the rate of a few thou- 
sands annually. These slaves were brought from various islands in 
the great East Indian Archipelago, the greater number, however, 
from the small island of Poulo Nyas, on the coast of Sumatra, 
and the large island of Celebes, adjacent to Borneo. The slaves 
consist partly of debtors and criminals, surrendered by the laws of 
their respective islands, but in a far greater degree of persons who 
have been kidnapped and carried away. The Nyas slaves are 
highly valued throughout the East; and as many as 1500 used to 
he exported from that small island every year, a large proportion 
of whom were carried to Batavia. In this short voyage, it was 
calculated that one-fourth generally died ; and in such dread do 
the natives of Nyas hold slavery, that instances are known in 
which, when a party of kidnappers had surrounded a house, the 
father, rather than surrender, has killed himself and his children. 
The most ingenious and industrious of the slaves in Java, how- 
ever, are those from the island of Celebes, known by the name 
of Bugghese or Macassars. These Macassars are a brave and 
civilised race, the vvreck of a people once nearly as powerful in 
the Archipelago as the Javanese. They have a literature of 
their own, and one of the amusements of the Batavian ladies is 
to hear their Macassar slaves recite their native ballads and 
romances. One of the occupations in which the Chinese employ 
their Macassar slaves, is in the collection of those Chinese dain- 
ties, the edible birds' nests, which are more abundant in Java 
than anywhere else. 

We have thus presented a general sketch of Java and its con- 
dition previous to the year 1811, much, however, being applicable 
to the island in the present day : a new turn took place in its 
affairs in the above year ; but before describing the changes 
which were effected, it will be necessary to say a few words 
respecting the person by whom they were suggested and carried 
into execution. 

Thomas Stamford Raffles was born at sea, off the coast of 
Jamaica, on the 5th of July 1781. His father was a captain in 
the West India trade. Returning with his mother to England, 
he was placed in a boarding-school at Hammersmith, where he 
remained till he was fourteen years of age ; and this was all the 
formal education he ever received. At the age of fourteen, this 
comparatively friendless youth entered the East India House in 
the capacity of an extra clerk ; and shortly afterwards, by his 
zeal and good behaviour, obtained a permanent situation in this 
great establishment, so celebrated for having reared and employed 
in its service a vast number of men eminent for their abilities. 
While employed in the India House, Mr RafSes zealously devoted 
himself to the acquisition of various kinds of knowledge, which 
he afterwards turned to good account : in particular, it was at 


tliis time tliat he first gave proofs of the facility y^^itli whicli lie 
could learn diiferent languages. In 1805 the court of directors 
resolved to found a new settlement at Penang, or Prince of 
¥/ales Island, oif the coast of Malacca, conceiving that it would 
be an advantageous trading post ; and at this time Mr Raffles^s 
qualifications were so v/ell known, that he was appointed assistant 
secretary to the establishment. During the voyage out, he 
acquired the Malay language so perfectly, as to be able to enter 
at once on the important duties of his office ; and the chief secre- 
tary, Mr Pearson, falling ill, the entire labour of arranging the 
forms of the new government, as well as of compiling all public 
documents, devolved on him. Such an accumulation of work 
was too severe for his constitution ; and in 1808 he was obliged 
to pay a visit to the Malacca mainland, for the purpose of 
recruiting his shattered health. It was during this visit to 
Malacca that Mr Raffles first enjoyed the opportunity of ob- 
serving and joining with the varied population congregated from 
all parts of the Archipelago, and from the distant countries of 
Asia ; from Java, Amboyna, Celebes, the Moluccas, Borneo, 
Papua, Cochin China, China Proper, &c. With many he con- 
versed personally, with others through the medium of inter- 
preters. To this early habit, which he always retained, of 
associating with the natives, and admitting them to intimate 
and social intercourse, may be attributed the extraordinary in- 
fluence which he obtained over them, and the respect with which 
they always received his advice and opinions. It was at this 
period also that Mr Raffles formed an acquaintanceship with 
Mr Marsden and the enthusiastic and lamented Leyden; and 
in company with these two Orientalists, commenced his elabo- 
rate researches into the history, the laws, and the literature 
of the Hindoo and Malay races. ¥/e find him also displaying^ 
that zeal for the advancement of the natural sciences, especially 
zoology, for which he was all his life distinguished, and which 
has earned him a high rank among naturalists, as well as among 
statesmen and Oriental scholars. 

Lord Minto, at the time governor-general of India, had con- 
ceived so favourable an opinion of Mr Raffles, that he became 
anxious to discover a field worthy of his abilities. On the occa- 
sion of a visit he made to Calcutta in 1809, his lordship spoke 
of the advantages to be derived from taking possession of the 
Moluccas, or smaller Spice Islands, whereupon Mr Raffles at 
once drew his attention to Java, as much preferable. The idea 
was instantly caught at by his lordship, and plans for its capture 
were forthwith devised. 

The scheme hinted at by Mr Raffles marked the comprehen- 
siveness of his character. It was to capture Java, and render it 
a British possession. Nor was such a project considered any 
violation of justice. In 1806 the French had overrun Holland, 
and in 1810 added it, as well as its chief foreign possessions, to the 


empire of France. Java^ therefore, was now no longer a Dutch 
but a French colonjo As England was at war with France, it 
was considered by Lord Minto and Mr Raffles that there could 
not be a more splendid achievement than to wrest so fine an 
island from Napoleon, and add it to the British crown. Indeed 
the conquest of Java seemed a matter of necessity ; for its posses- 
sion would give the French almost the sovereignty of the Malayan 
Archipelago, and enable them materially to affect the prosperity 
of our eastern trade, and the stability of our eastern possessions. 
In short, the invasion of Java was resolved upon. But the enter- 
prise was one not to be attempted rashly ; in the meantime, 
therefore, the design was kept a profound secret, and Mr Raffles 
was despatched to prepare the way for the expedition, taking 
up his residence at Malacca with the title of " agent to the 
governor-general, with the Malay states." 

Having, after much careful investigation, learned which would 
form the safest and most practicable route to Java, Mr Raffles 
communicated all proper information to Lord Minto, who imme- 
diately proceeded with a powerful naval force on the expedition. 
The fleet, consisting of upwards of ninety sail, left Malacca on the 
iSth of June 1811, and after a voyage of six weeks, anchored off 
Batavia. In the course of a month, the British troops effected 
the conquest of the island ; and on the 1 6th of September Lord 
Minto issued a proclamation announcing* the general features of 
its future g'overnment as a British territory. In his letter to the 
government in England, Lord Minto announced the capture of 
Java in the following terms : — " An empire which for two cen- 
turies has contributed greatly to the power, prosperity, and 
grandeur of one of the principal and most respected states in 
Europe, has been thus wrested from the short occupation of the 
French government, added to the dominion of the British crown, 
and converted from a seat of hostile machination and commercial 
competition, into an augmentation of British power and pro- 

In thus annexing Java to our East Indian possessions. Lord 
Minto took a bolder step than the court of directors of the East 
India Company was disposed altogether to sanction at first. 
When he had announced to them his intention to attack Java, 
the scheme met their decided approbation ; but instead of agree- 
ing with Lord Minto in his desire to convert Java into a British 
possession, all that they meditated was the expulsion of the Dutch 
from the island, and its restoration to the native Javanese. This 
they thought would be sufficient ; and to one not acquainted 
with the condition of the various islands in the Archipelago, 
their intention may appear very reasonable and philanthropic. 
But Lord Minto saw that the mere expulsion of the Dutch 
from the island would be unavailing unless some strong and 
benevolent power were to come after them, and take charge of 
a country which they had so wretchedly misgoverned. To leave 



the Javanese to govern themselves, would be to throw back the 
island into hopeless war and confusion. Possessed of all those 
qualities which would constitute them good and obedient sub- 
jectSj it was not to be expected that the Javanese, after submitting 
to Dutch rule for 200 years, could have preserved any notions 
of their own ancient government, much less that they could set 
up a new one. Accordingly, Lord Minto determined to annex 
the island to the British territory, and give it some experience 
of rational government. In so doing, he was incurring the re- 
sponsibility of exceeding his instructions ; but as Lady Kaffles, 
in the biography of her husband, nobly says, '^ No man is fit for 
high station anywhere who is not prepared to risk even more 
than fame or fortune at the call of judgment and conscience." 

Lord Minto immediately appointed Mr Raffles lieutenant- 
governor of Java and its dependencies ; and after a stay of six 
weeks in the island, returned to Bengal, leaving the new g'overnor 
to commence his arduous duties. The only event that could cast 
a shade of sorrow over the important occasion was the death of 
Dr Leyden, who had accompanied the expedition to Java, and 
who soon fell a victim to his thirst for knowledge. 

" It would be endless,'^ says Lady Raffles, " to notice the diffi- 
culties and obstacles which occurred in the establishment of a 
pure and upright administration in Java. Not only was the 
whole system previously pursued by the Dutch to be subverted, 
but an entire new one substituted, as pure and liberal as the old 
one was vicious and contracted ; and this was to be accomplished 
and carried into effect by the very persons who had so long fat- 
tened on the vices of the former policy." Nor were the difficulties 
of Mr Raffles such only as resulted from the state of the island, 
the government of which he had undertaken. There was a dis- 
heartening circumstance, apart from the condition of the island 
itself, under which most men would have either refrained from 
doing anything, or at least acted listlessly and carelessly — the 
prospect of the British possession of Java being only of short 
continuance. Nevertheless, Mr Raffles determined that in the 
meanwhile nothing should prevent him from doing his duty, and 
he did it nobly. 

Mr Raffles's lirst step was to cause to be prepared a complete 
body of statistics relating to all the affairs of the island ; and ob- 
taining this, he commenced his scheme of reform. His projDosed 
alterations were of two kinds ; first, a reform of the general 
spirit of the government ; and, second, a reform of the actual 
institutions of the country, wherever it appeared necessary. 

The general spirit of the Dutch government, as has been 
shown, was that of utter selfishness — it was the government of a 
band of robbers. Java was retained for the single purpose of 
yielding a revenue, without the slightest regard to the comfort 
or prosperity of the people. The guiding principle of the govern- 
ment introduced by Mr Raffles was diametricallv opposite — it 
u " 9 


was tlie general good of the whole 'population. In conformity 
with the proclamation of Lord Minto before liis departure from 
the island, he exhorted the people " to consider their new con- 
nexion with England as founded on the principles of mutual ad- 
vantage, and to be conducted in a spirit of kindness and affection."' 
He studied the feeling's and the prejudices of all classes of society, 
entering into the most cordial and familiar intercourse with per- 
sons of intelligence and influence, whether they were Dutch or 
native Javanese, and in every possible way tried to produce a 
feeling that he had no other object in view as governor than the 
happiness and prosperity of the inhabitants. He permitted the 
poorest Javanese to have free access to his presence ; and whatever 
measure he adopted, or regulation he found it necessary to pass, 
he took care to have it widely published, and even to have the 
reasons on which it was founded made known, thus addressing' as 
much as possible the natural good sense of the natives. One reso- 
lution which he adopted at his first entrance into office delighted 
and gratified the Javanese as much as it surprised the Dutch. In 
travelling through the island, which it was necessary for him to 
do frequently, and to great distances, he would not carry arms, 
nor suiFer himself to be attended by any escort, and he enjoined 
his staff to do the same. At first, such had been the false reports 
spread by the Dutch relative to the character and habits of the 
Javanese, that this resolution of the governor was considered 
foolhardy and Quixotic ; but at length the wisdom of such a 
policy became evident. Not a single act of violence occurred in 
consequence of this display of confidence ; on the contrary, the 
natives regarded it as a compliment, and anticipated the highest 
things from a governor who put such trust in their quietness and 
honesty. " Whilst driving along," says a visitor to Java at this 
time, "in an open carriage at the rate of nine miles an hour 
through the gorgeous forests of that delicious climate, we could 
scarcely believe that we were quite at the mercy of the Malays 
and other tribes, falsely proverbial for treachery and ferocity." 
Mr Raffles always entertained a high opinion of the character of 
the natives of Java, and believed that, if properly treated, there 
was not a more docile or more easily governed people on the 
face of the earth. 

To detail all the changes which Mr Raffles introduced into the 
administration of Java during the ^yq years of his residence in 
the island, would be a needless task. It will be sufficient to 
notice the three principal alterations — his reform of the revenue 
system, his establishment of a better system of police and public 
justice, and his abolition of the slave trade. 

Our readers are already aware of the nature of the system of 
internal management which the Dutch pursued. Almost the 
whole territory was farmed out to native regents or officers, who, 
besides paying a small rent or recognition money to the Dutch 
authorities, handed over to them annually the whole produce of 



their respective districts at a fixed government price. By dis- 
posing* of this produce, either by exporting* it or by selling* it back 
ag*ain to the Javanese themselves, the Dutch raised a revenue ; 
and in this monopoly, therefore, consisted the sole advantag-e 
derived by them from the possession of Java. The Dutch 
themselves had begun to be ashamed of this system of colo- 
nial government, and had made some attempts to introduce a 
better ; but none of these attempts succeeded, and it was reserved 
for Mr Eaffles to confer on Java the boon of a well-devised go- 
vernment. The following is his own brief and distinct account 
of the reform which he effected. ^^ The whole system of native 
management has been exploded, and the mass of the population 
are now no longer dependent on a regent or other chieftain, but 
look up direct to the European power which protects them. In 
the first place, the lands are let, generally speaking, to the heads , 
of villages, as this description of people appear to me to be the 
resident superintending farmers of the estate. In so extensive 
a population, there will naturally require to be some deviations in 
different districts, but the plan of village rents will generally pre- 
vail. After the experience of one year, leases for three 3^ ears will 
be granted ; and at the conclusion of that period, the leases may 
either be made for seven or for ten years, or the land granted to 
the actual possessors in perpetuity. You will thus see that I have 
had the happiness to release several millions of my fellow-creatures 
from a state of bondage and arbitrary oppression. The revenue 
of government, instead of being wrung by the grasping hand of 
an unfeeling farmer from the savings of industry, will now come 
into the treasuries of government direct, and be proportioned to 
the actual capability of the country." 

It is necessary to explain this system adopted by Mr KafHes 
a little more fully. In the first place, the regents or native 
officers who had been intermediate between the government 
and the mass of the native population, and who had shamefully 
ground down the latter in order to make large profits from 
their situations, were completely laid aside, receiving an allot- 
ment of lands, or a sum of money, as a suitable compensation 
for the loss of their lucrative office. The lands thus placed 
at the disposal of the government were let at a fair rent to a 
number of small proprietors, who were generally the heads of 
villages. To give an idea of who these heads of villages were, 
we may quote Mr Eaffies's own description of a Javanese village. 
^^ The cottages of the Javanese are never insulated, but formed 
into villages whose population extends from 50 to 200 or 300 
inhabitants ; each has its garden ; and this spot of ground sur- 
rounding his simple habitation the cottager regards as his pecu- 
liar patrimony, and cultivates with peculiar care. He labours to 
plant and to rear in it those vegetables that may be most useful 
to his family, and those shrubs and trees which may at once 
yield him their fruit and their shade. The cottages, or the 



assemblag'e of huts tliat compose the village, become thus com- 
pletely screened from the rays of a scorching" sun, and are so 
buried amid the foliage of a luxuriant vegetation, that at a small 
distance no appearance of a human dwelling can be discovered ; 
and the residence of a numerous society appears only a verdant 
grave, or a clump of evergreens. Every village forms a com- 
munity in itself, each having its officers, its priest, and its temple." 
It was generally, then, to the native heads of such villages, dis- 
tinguished by the various titles of Petingi, Bakal, or Surah, that 
the lands were let out by government according to the system 
introduced by Mr Kaffies. In some cases, however, and parti- 
cularly in those districts where the Chinese had planted them- 
selves most thickly, it was necessary to depart from this regula- 
tion, and let the land to others. The land was let on short leases. 
It was indeed proposed to sell the lands entirely, so as to constitute 
the heads of villages into permanent landlords instead of govern- 
ment tenants ; but Lord Minto seems to have disapproved of this 
plan of permanent sale, and therefore that of short leases alone 
was practised. The amount of rent was fixed as equitably as 
possible by a reference to the circumstances of each particular 
case, two -fifths of the average annual rice produce of the soil 
being about the usual rate. This rent being duly paid, the heads 
of villages or other government tenants v/ere at liberty to dispose 
of the produce of their respective farms to the best advantage, 
and at any price they could obtain in the market, the govern- 
ment laying no claim to any exclusive right of purchase. In 
order, however, to encourage the growth of coffee, which Mr 
Raffles anticipated might become an important article of export 
in the course of a few years, government engag-ed to receive 
any surplus quantity of that commodity from the growers at a 
reasonable and fixed rate, when a higher price could not be 
obtained for it in the market ; thus at least securing the coffee 
groAvers against loss. Under the old system, besides claiming a 
monopoly of the produce, the government had a right of vassal- 
age or feudal service over the native regents, and, through them, 
over the mass of the people ; that is, the government had a right 
to make the natives labour, without wages, on roads and other 
public works. This feudal exaction, one of the most intolerable 
that can be imagined, and one under which France gToaned 
before the Eevolution, Mr Raffles at once abolished. If the heads 
of villages paid their rent regularly, they were considered as 
having discharged all their obligations to government ; and 
whatever labour government might require, it was to pay for at 
the ordinary market rate of wages. 

A change like this could not fail at once to create a hearty 
spirit of contentment and industry. " All is altered now,'^ we 
may imagine one of these heads of villages or government tenants 
saying; " I have no long-er to sell all my rice, my coffee, and my 
pepper, to a greedy government for a wretched pittance, hardly 



enough to remunerate me for my toil. All that I have to do is 
to pay my rent to government ; and then I have all my rice, 
my coffee, and my pepper to do as I please with. All that I 
raise above what pays my rent and other expenses is clear 
profit.'^ In order to provide farther against the practice of any 
extortion by these government tenants upon their inferiors or 
sub-tenants (which, however, was not likely to happen, the greater 
j)art of the government tenants, namely, the heads of villages, 
having' a natural bond connecting them in feeling and interest 
with their inferiors), a superintendence was exercised by govern- 
ment over the mode in which the lands were sub-let to the minor 
tenants. Thus, down to the lowest ranks of society the beneficial 
influence of the change of system extended ; and every man 
began to feel that the fruits of his industry and energy would 
not, as formerly, be swallowed up by the insatiable maw of 
government, but would be really and truly his own. 

It was necessary, however, not merely to allow the natives 
to be the sole and exclusive proprietors of the produce of their 
industry, but also to open up the channels of commerce, so that 
they might bring that produce to a profitable market. It would 
have been of no use for government to have given up its claim 
to a monopoly of the produce, and at the same time to have kept 
up those restrictions which would have prevented the growers 
from finding- any other market for it, so that they would have 
been obliged to come to government and say, ^^ Rather than have 
our rice rot on our hands, we will give you it at your own price,^' 
thus actually restoring the monopoly. Accordingly, as a part 
of the system of Mr Raffles, all the tolls and internal imposts of 
the island, which operated as checks to internal traffic, were abo- 
lished; all the ports of the island, without exception, were thrown 
open; almost all the export duties were abrogated; the import 
duties were reduced to the lowest possible point ; and no descrip- 
tion of goods was excluded from the island. Free trade, in 
short, in a sense almost as wide as it is possible to understand it, 
w^as realised ; the only cost incurred in the transmission of goods 
from one part of the island to another, or from the island itself 
to other parts of the Malayan Archipelago, being' the cost of 
carriage. This change must have been agreeable to all classes 
of the community, except perhaps to the Chinese, who had been 
the great farmers of taxes under the old system, and who were 
of course obliged now to betake themselves to some other course 
of industry. 

Mr Raffles effected as important a change in the department 
of justice as he had in the department of revenue. Under the 
Dutch government, the natives had been subject to laws utterly 
averse from their natural feelings and superstitions, and with 
which also they were totally unacquainted. The Dutch laws 
were doubtless good, but, as applied without modification to the 
native Javanese, they gave rise to the most tyrannical and unjust 



decisions^ especially as tlie juries consisted exclusively of Euro- 
peans. Mr Eaffies reversed all this. ^^ By means of the num- 
berless inquiries he had instituted all over the island," says a 
writer who speaks from local knowledge, " and particularly by 
his own personal investigations, he discovered that the Javanese 
possessed, from time immemorial, among^st themselves, a system 
of police as well as of jurisprudence, which, if not precisely 
squaring" in all points with our notions of such thing's, it was 
fair to infer were more or less suited to the peculiar circum- 
stances of the island. Strangely enough, the Dutch were ignorant 
of the existence of many of these native institutions, though 
some of them were never entirely extinguished during the two 
centuries of their administration. Mr Raffles, however, at once 
saw how important it would be to enlist the prejudices and 
established habits of the natives in his cause, and, by giving^ the 
sanction of his authority to local usages which the natives were 
already in possession of, to attach, as it were, as many readj- 
made wheels to the machinery of his government.'^ While, how- 
ever, he introduced into his administration as many of the native 
Javanese forms as possible, he did not do so indiscriminately ; 
but wherever he found any native custom or regulation which 
was inconsistent with his own notions of justice, he changed or 
modified it so as to make it suit. The deposed Javanese rajahs 
or regents he turned to good account, by availing himself of 
their services in the department of police ; and the dignity which 
he thus assigned to them, together with the lands and money 
which they received in lieu of their regencies, was considered by 
most of them as more than a compensation for what they had 
lost. By a very simple expedient, Mr Raffles provided for the 
prompt administration of justice in the island. " One member 
of each of the courts of justice was appointed a judge of circuit, 
to be present in each of the residencies at least once in every 
three months, and as much oftener as was found necessary. The 
formalities of the Roman law employed by the Dutch were 
avoided. A native jury, consisting of an intelligent foreman 
and four others, decided upon the facts ; the law was then taken 
down and expounded by the native law officers ; and the sen- 
tence, with the opinion of the judge of circuit upon the appli- 
cation of the Dutch and colonial law in the cases, was forwarded 
for the modification of the lieutenant-governor." At the same 
time the utmost pains were taken to acquaint the natives with 
the details of the system. The regulations were translated into 
the Malayan and all the other languages spoken in Java, and 
published as widely as possible. 

The third great reform accomplished by Mr Raffles was the 
abolition of the slave trade, and its attendant practice, piracy. 
Unfortunately, we have but very scanty information on this 
point: it would appear, indeed, that, in abolishing the iniquitous 
traffic in slaves, Mr Raffles did not meet with so much difficulty 



as mi^ht have been expected. The following" notice on the sub- 
ject occurs in Lady Raffles^s life of her husband : — " Mr Raffles 
was anxious to diffuse the blessings of freedom throughout the 
whole of the varied populations under his charge ; and as the 
British parliament had at this time passed an act which declared 
the slave trade to be felony, he established it as a colonial law ; 
and it continues in force to this day, since it cannot be repealed 
without express authority from the mother country. The lead- 
ing inhabitants possessing slaves concurred with him in his 
efforts to abolish this dreadful evil throughout the Dutch pos- 
sessions; and the whole of the slaves in the island were regis- 
tered according to the forms of the West India islands, with the 
view of giving them their liberty. The Bengal authorities, 
however, refused their sanction ; because, as they alleged, it had 
not been determined v/hether the government of Java was to be 
permanently administered by the king of Great Britain or by 
the East India Company." 

The highest testimony to the merits of the changes of which 
we have just given an account is the fact, that while all classes 
of society were contented with the administration of Mr Raffles, 
and the native Javanese adored his name, the revenue derived 
by the government itself was eight times as large as it had teen 
under the Dutch. The highest revenue ever raised by the Dutch 
in Java was four millions of rupees, or half a million of pounds 
sterling in a year ; whereas before Mr Raffles left Java, the 
revenue amounted to thirty millions of rupees, or nearly four 
millions of pounds sterling. 

Unfortunately, this course of reform, which was renovating the 
island of Java, and raising it to prosperity greater than it had 
ever experienced before, was arrested by an event which the 
governor had from the first anticipated. Looking forward to 
the restoration of the island to the Dutch, Mr Raffles thus ex- 
pressed himself in a letter to Lord Minto, dated July 2, 1814. 
" If I were to believe," says he, " that the Javanese were ever 
again to be ruled on the former principles of government, I 
should indeed quit Java with a heavy heart; but a brighter 
prospect is, I hope, before them. Holland is not only re- 
established, but, I hope, renovated: her prince has been edu- 
cated in the best of all schools — adversity ; and I will hope the 
people of Java will be as happy, if not happier, under the Dutch 
as under the English. Mr Muntinghe has often reminded 
me, that when conversing with your lordship on the judicial 
regulations, you observed it was not certain whether England 
would retain permanent possessions in Java; hut in the mean- 
time let us do as much good as toe caii. This we have done, and 
whatever change may take place, the recollection can never be 

In the beginning of 1816, Mr Raffles, after five years' residence 
in Java, was relieved of the government, and Mr Tindal came 



out to succeed him. The intelligence of his departure caused 
demonstrations of lively regret by the natives as well as Euro- 
peans. On the morning of his embarkation, the roads of Batavia 
were filled with boats, crowded with people of various nations, 
all anxious to pay the last tribute of respect within their power 
to one whose services they so highly appreciated. On reaching 
the vessel, he found the decks filled with offerings of every de- 
scription — fruit, flowers, poultry, whatever they thought would 
promote his comfort on the voyage. When the order was given 
to weigh anchor, there was a universal scene of distress ; the 
people felt that they were losing for ever the great man who 
had so nobly regenerated their countrj^, and been their common 

The new governor of Java had scarcely time to enter on his 
duties ; for, on the fall of Napoleon, the congress of European 
powers, by a single stroke of the pen, restored Java to the 
Dutch.* Had the times been less exciting, it is probable that^ 
before surrendering Java to its former owners, some precautions 
would have been adopted relative to the government and trade 
of the island. No such precautions were adopted. Java was 
unconditionally restored. In one day all the splendid reforms 
of Mr Raffles were laid in ruins. Delivered up to the Dutch 
authorities, they remorselessly went back to the old order of 
things — a rigorous and grasping monopoly in trade, and a 
tyranny which recognised no principle of humanity or justice. 
What were the feelings of the rapidly-improving Javanese in 
being thus delivered up to their old oppressors, may be more 
easily conjectured than described. They gave a sullen submis- 
sion, and " the island,'' observes a writer in 1830, " has been 
nearly one scene of rebellion and bloodshed ever since it was 
given to the Dutch." 


After a prosperous voyage, Mr Raffles reached London on the 
16th of July 1816, and one of his first acts after arrival was to 
address the court of directors of the East India Company, 
claiming an inquiry into his conduct during the period of his 
administration in Java. He was particularly anxious that 
this inquiry should be made, because he had reason to know 
that the court did not entirely approve of all that he had 
done ; and he had hoped that now that he was present in 
Leadenhall Street to defend his measures, he would be able to 
represent them to the court in a more favourable light. The 

* It does not appear that the French had taken possession of the smaller 
Spice Islands, which remained nominally under the Dutch, and retained 
the Dutch flag, although for a number of years there was in reality no 
Dutch nation. On the restoration of Java, therefore, the possession of 
these islands, which had been unmolested by any European power, was 
peacefully resumed. 


particular cause of difference between him and the court of 
directors was as follows : — While in Java, he found it necessary 
to keep up a considerable military force, and also to discharge 
certain debts incurred by the old government ; and for these 
purposes money was required. As, however, the island itself 
could not at first supply as much as was needed, he was obliged 
to make repeated drafts on the company^s treasury in BengaL 
As these drafts were made at a time when the Bengal treasury 
was low, and required to be replenished from London, the court 
of directors began to entertain a bad opinion of Java, and to* 
contemplate its abandonment. These, among other circum- 
stances, had led to the recall of Mr Ealfles. Now, however, he 
hoped to vindicate his conduct to the satisfaction of the court, 
and to make it clear that Java, instead of being a burden ta 
the company, would have been a valuable acquisition ; and it 
was with this view that he petitioned the court of directors for a 
revision of his administration. The court, however, saw it ex- 
pedient to pronounce no decision, farther than to express its 
conviction that the measures adopted by Mr Raffles had " sprung 
from motives perfectly correct and laudable.'^ 

In order to meet the growing demand for information about 
Java, Mr Raffles rapidly prepared and published a history of the 
island, w^hich was published in May 1817, and which is a monu~ 
ment of his abilities and the extent of his knowledge. In the 
same year Mr Raffles married a second time, his first wife having 
died a short time before he left Java. About the same time also 
he received from the prince-regent the honour of knighthood. It 
is a proof of the strong* and affectionate interest he took in Java, 
that in this same year he paid a visit to the continent, for the 
express purpose of having an interview with the king of Hol- 
land respecting the future government of the island. The result 
of this interview is thus communicated by Sir Stamford himself 
in a letter to his friend Mr Marsden. " I met with very great 
attention in the Netherlands, and had the honour to dine with 
the king last Monday : they were very communicative regarding 
their eastern colonies ; but I regret to say, that notwithstanding 
the king himself and his leading minister seem to mean well, 
they have too great a hankering after profit, and immediate 
profit, for any liberal s^rstem to thrive under them. The king, 
while he admitted all the advantages likely to arise from culti- 
vation, and assured me that the system introduced under my 
administration should be continued, maintained that it was 
essential to confine the trade, and to make such regulations as 
would secure it and its profits exclusively to the mother country. 
I had an opportunity of expressing my sentiments to him very 
freely, and as he took them in good part, I am in hopes they may 
have some weight.'' 

The title of Lieutenant-Governor of Bencoolen, in the island of 
Sumatra, having been conferred on Sir Stamford by the court of 



directors^ " as a peculiar mark of the favourable sentiments which 
the court entertained of his merits and services/^ he once more 
set sail for the East Indies, there to renew, althoug'h in a different 
spot, his career of active benevolence. He arrived at Bencoolen 
on the 22d of March 1818. 

Sumatra belong-s to the same group of islands as Java, from 
which it is separated at its south-eastern extremity by a narrow 
strait. Sumatra^ however, is considerably the larg-er, being* more 
than 900 miles long*, and varying from 140 to 210 miles in 
breadth, having thus an area larger than England, Scotland, and 
Ireland together. But though larger, Sumatra is not so impor- 
tant an island as Java. ^' From the hand of God," says Sir 
Stamford Raffles in a letter written after he had formed an ac- 
quaintance with the island, "Sumatra has received perhaps 
higher advantages and capabilities than Java ; but no two coun- 
tries form a more decided contrast in the use which has been 
made of them by man. While Sumatra remains in a great part 
covered with its primeval forests, and exhibiting but scattered 
traces of human industry, Java has become the granary and the 
garden of the East. In the fomier we find man inactive, sullen, 
and partaking of the gloom of the forests, while in the latter he 
is active and cheerful." One-half of the large island of Sumatra 
is flat and level ; the other is mountainous ; and the products of 
these two parts are of course different, althoug^h the principal pro- 
ducts of the island may be said to be rice, tobacco, hemp, coffee, 
sago, camphor, various spices, and innumerable kinds of fruit. 
From no other country are such large quantities of pepper exported. 

Sumatra, like Java, is peopled by a branch of the Malay race ; 
the inhabitants, however, receive various names, according^ to the 
districts which they occupy, and present some differences of lan- 
guage, manners, and physiognomy. In some parts of the island 
the natives exhibit considerable evidences of civilisation ; but upon 
the whole, the Sumatrans are far inferior people to the Javanese. 
The political condition of Sumatra is much the same as that of 
Java; that is, it is subject partly to the Dutch, partly to inde- 
pendent native princes. Instead, however, of there being only 
two independent native states, as in Java, in Sumatra there are 
five such, namely, the kingdoms of Acheen, Siack, Indragiri, 
lambie, and Battas, situated in the northern half of the island. 
The rest of the island, that is, the southern half, constitutes the 
Dutch colony, and is governed for the most part by native 
regents of the different districts under the Dutch authorities. 

In 1818, the only part of Sumatra which was not included in 
the Dutch colony, or in the native territories above mentioned, 
was Bencoolen, a small district in the south-west of the island, 
extending from the coast a number of miles into the interior, 
and belonging to Great Britain ; and it was of this district that 
Sir Stamford Baffles was appointed governor. The British 
settlement of Bencoolen, or Fort Marlborough, was founded in 



1685 b}^ tlie orders of the East India Company, who conceived it 
would be an advantageous post in the pepper trade. It never, 
however, answered their expectations. Whether owing* to its 
natural want of capabilities, or to the mismanagement of those 
who successively took charge of it, or to both of these causes, 
Bencoolen proved a very unprofitable settlement. The cost of 
maintaining the establishment amounted to little less than 
£100,000 a-year, while all the return it made was a few tons of 
pepper. In 1801, the establishment was reduced, and an attempt 
made to introduce a more economical system of management 
under the direction of the British resident, Mr Parr ; but the 
change was so injudiciously eifected, that a great part of the 
population was thrown out of employment, and the natives 
became so infuriated as to attack the government-house, and 
murder Mr Parr. Severe measures of retaliation were adopted 
by the British, and the consequence was, that the whole district 
w^as laid waste ; the trees, gardens, and houses being destroyed, 
and the cattle almost exterminated. " This," writes Sir Stam- 
ford Raffles a few days after his arrival at Bencoolen, " is, 
without exception, the most wretched place I ever beheld. I 
cannot convey to you an adequate idea of the state of ruin and 
dilapidation which surrounds me. What with natural impedi- 
ments, bad government, and the awful visitations of Providence 
which we have recently experienced in the shape of repeated 
earthquakes, we have scarcely a dwelling in which to lay our 
heads, or wherewithal to satisfy the cravings of nature. The 
roads are impassable; the highways in the town overrun with 
rank grass ; the government-house a den of ravenous dogs and 
polecats. The natives say that Bencoolen is now a dead land. 
In truth, I could never have conceived anything half so bad." 
Not discouraged with this dismal prospect, the writer proceeds — 
^^ We will try and make the place better • and if I am well sup- 
ported from home, the west coast may yet be turned to account., 
You must, however, be prepared for the abolition of slavery, 
the emancipation of the country people from the forced cultiva- 
tion of pepper, the discontinuing of the gaming and cock-fight- 
ing farms, and a thousand other practices equally disgrace- 
ful and repugnant to the British character and government. A 
complete and thorough reform is indispensable, and reductions 
must be made throughout." 

Paltry as was the appointment of Sir Stamford to the gover- 
norship of Bencoolen in comparison with that of Java, his situa- 
tion was not by any means unimportant, for it imposed on him 
the superintendence of the adjoining seas. Along with Java, 
the Dutch had recovered the entire sovereignty of the Malayan 
Archipelago, of which during the alienation of Java the}^ had 
been deprived. There was every probability, therefore, that they 
would renew their old illiberal policy in that quarter of the world, 
using the power which they possessed over the natives of the 



various islands to prevent tliem from maintaining an intei'- 
course with the ships of other nations ; and, in particular, it 
was expected that they would renew their attempts to injure 
the trade of the British in these remote seas. The only stations 
which the English retained in that quarter of the world were 
Penang; off the western coast of Malacca, and Bencoolen, in 
Sumatra. Of course, then, these two settlements derived a 
peculiar importance from such a consideration, heing, as it were, 
watch-towers from which the English could observe the move- 
ments of the Dutch. Bencoolen especially was regarded as a 
valuable station in this point of view ; and among the instruc- 
tions furnished to Sir Stamford Raffles by the court of directors, 
before leaving England, was one to the following effect : — '-' It is 
highly desirable that the court of directors should receive early 
and constant information of the proceedings of the Dutch and 
other European nations, as well as of the Americans, in the 
Eastern Archipelago. The court therefore desire that you will 
direct your attention to the object of regularly obtaining such in- 
formation, and that you will transmit the same to them by every 
convenient opportunity, accompanied by such observations as may 
occur to you, whether of a political or commercial nature." 

Besides, therefore, his particular duties as governor of Ben- 
coolen, Sir Stamford had to cast his eye over the whole Archi- 
pelago, from the Bay of Bengal as far east as New Guinea, and 
conceive himself charged with the superintendence of the British 
interests in these seas. Let us hrst attend to his proceedings in 
Bencoolen, and more generally in the island of Sumatra. 

In some respects, the spirit in which Sir Stamford commenced 
his reforms at Bencoolen was the same as that which had pre- 
sided over his administration in Java. " He devoted,'^ says Lady 
Raffles, " his whole time on his first arrival to the examination 
of the records of the settlement, the state of the country and 
people in its immediate neighbourhood, and endeavoured to 
collect the European inhabitants and the native chiefs around 
him, that he might become personally acquainted with their 
habits and manners. The same system of excluding the natives 
from the society of Europeans had been pursued in this settle- 
ment as in most other parts of India. Sir Stamford at once 
broke down this barrier, and opened his house to the higher class 
of natives 6n all occasions. During the whole period of his resi- 
dence in Sumatra, he had some of them present during the hours 
of social intercourse. The result of this it is needless to dwell 
upon. The chiefs and people considered him as their best friend 
and adviser, yielded to his opinion upon all occasions, and har- 
mony and good-will prevailed throughout the settlement." Yet 
Sir Stamford found it necessary to pursue a policy in Sumatra in 
many respects totally different from that which he had pursued 
in Java. " I have found in the Sumatrans," he says, " a very dif- 
ferent people from the inhabitants of Java : they are, perhaps, a 


thousand years behind them in civilisation, and consequently re- 
quire a very different kind of government. In Java, I advocated 
the doctrine of the liberty of the subject and the individual rights 
of man — here I am an advocate for despotism. The strong* arm 
of power is necessary to bring men together, and to concentrate 
them in societies, and there is a certain stage in which despotic 
authority seems the only means of promoting civilisation. 
Sumatra is in a great measure peopled by innumerable petty 
tribes, subject to no general government, having little or no in- 
tercourse with each other, and man still remains inactive, sullen, 
and partaking of the gloom which pervades the forests by which 
he is surrounded. No European power seems to think it worth 
its while to subdue the country by conquest, which would be the 
shortest and best way of civilising it ; and therefore all that can 
be done is to raise the importance of the chiefs, and to assist in 
promoting the advance of feudal authority. This once estab- 
lished, and government being once firmly introduced, let the 
people be enlightened, and the energies which will then be called 
forth in regaining' a portion of their liberties will be the best 
pledge of their future character as a nation." What a healthy, 
practical mind we see manifested in such sentiments as these. 
He found it necessary in Java to abolish all remains of feudal 
power, and accordingly he abolished them ; in Sumatra, on 
the other hand, he found it necessary to strengthen the feudal 
tie, and accordingly he strengthened it. A less practical man 
would have persisted in applying to Sumatra the system which 
he had found to work well in Java, without any regard to the 
difference of the two countries. 

One of Sir Stamford's first acts in Bencoolen was to abolish 
slavery. " There were at this time in Bencoolen," says Lady 
Raffles, " upwards of two hundred African slaves, most of them 
born in the settlement, who were the children of slaves originally 
purchased by the East India Company: they were considered 
indispensable for the duties of the place, and it was asserted that 
they were happier than free men. They were employed in load- 
ing and unloading the company's ships, and other hard work. 
No care having been taken of their morals, many of them were 
dissolute and depraved, and the children in a state of nature, 
vice, and wretchedness." These two hundred negroes Sir Stam- 
ford immediately set at liberty. Assembling them all before a 
meeting of the native chiefs, he explained the views of the British 
government with regard to the abolition generally, and granted 
to each negro, man and woman, a certificate declaring* him or her 
to be for ever free, and at liberty to labour for wages like other 
free persons. The negro children were at the same time assembled 
at the government-house ; and as a considerable degree of pre- 
judice existed against them, Lady Raffles selected one of them, 
^' a little bright-eyed girl eight years old, whom she put under the 
charge of a European nurse. She proved a most docile, affec- 



tionate little attendant; and Lady Kaffles, on leaving Sumatra^ 
had the pleasure of giving her a dower on her marriage." 

Another class of unfortunate persons who attracted Sir Stam- 
ford's benevolent notice were the convicts — criminals who, since 
the year 1797, had been transported from Bengal to Bencoolen. 
These amounted to about ^ve hundred in all at the period of Sir 
Stamford's arrival in Bencoolen. Sir Stamford thought that 
something might be done for this unfortunate class of men, " It 
is desirable/' he said, in communicating- his designs to the court 
of directors, "that some discrimination should be exercised in 
favour of those who show the disposition to redeem their cha- 
racter. I would suggest the propriety of the chief authority 
being vested with a discretionary power of freeing such men as 
conduct themselves well from the obligations of service, and per- 
mitting them to settle in the place, and resume the privileges of 
citizenship. It rarely happens that any of those transported 
have any desire to leave the country : they form connexions in 
the place, and find so many inducements to remain, that to be 
sent away is considered by most a severe punishment. I propose 
to divide them into three classes — the first class to be allowed 
to give evidence in court, and permitted to settle on lands 
secured to them and their children ; but no one to be admitted to 
this class until he has been resident in Bencoolen three years : the 
second class to be employed in ordinary labour : the third class, 
or men of abandoned and profligate character, to be kept to the 
harder kinds of labour, and confined at night. In cases of parti- 
cular good conduct, a prospect may be held out of emancipating 
deserving convicts from further obligation of services on condi- 
tion of their supporting themselves, and not quitting the settle- 
ment." These measures were afterwards carried into effect, and 
with great success: a large body of persons, till now degraded, 
soon became useful labourers and happy members of society. 

These changes Sir Stamford was able to effect directly by the 
exercise of his own authority as lieutenant-governor. Certain 
other important reforms which he effected at the same time, and 
w^hich concerned the native Sumatrans more particularly, he was 
able to accomplish only by means of the native chiefs. Having 
gained their confidence by his kindness, he had no difficulty in 
obtaining their co-operation. All former treaties between the 
British president in Bencoolen and the native chiefs were an- 
nulled, and a new agreement entered into, whereby authority 
was given to the company to administer the affairs of the 0ttle- 
ment according to justice and g^ood policy. The cultivatibn .^f 
pepper, which had hitherto been compulsory on the natives, .was 
now declared optional : they were to be at liberty to cultivate 
either pepper or any other kind of produce which tjiey .might 
prefer, and which their lands might be capable of gmwiiig ; Sir 
Stamford having too strong a faith in the principle of ' demand 
and supply; to entertain any doubt that a proper quantity of 


pepper would continue to be cultivated even after liberty had 
been given to cultivate anything else. Sir Stamford also abo- 
lished all the gambling establishments in Bencoolen, from which 
hitherto the government had derived a considerable revenue. 
One of the most remarkable characteristics of the Sumatrans^ 
as of all the other Malays, is their love for gaming ; and in Ben- 
coolen the propensity had grown so strong, as to occupy half the 
time of the natives, deteriorate their character, and diminish the 
prosperity of the settlement. The abolition by Sir Stamford 
Eaffles of all public gaming-houses, accompanied as it judiciously 
was by the abolition of the compulsory cultivation of pepper, 
produced an immediate and sensible effect : the time which the 
Sumatrans formerly consumed in gaming of various kinds, they 
now applied to better purpose, feeling that their industry was 
at their own disposal. Since the murder of Mr Parr, the native 
inhabitants had been subjected to various marks of disgrace, such 
as being prohibited from wearing the crees and other weapons 
in the town of Marlborough; but all these regulations were 
rescinded by Sir Stamford, as having nothing but an injurious 
effect. At the same time he dismissed the body-guard which 
used to attend the person of the British resident at Bencoolen, 
and greatly reduced the military force. The natives were highly 
gratified by these tokens of confidence, and did their best to 
show that the confidence was not misplaced. 

After a short residence at Bencoolen, during which he was 
engaged in effecting the above-mentioned reforms. Sir Stamford 
set out on an excursion into the interior of the island, with a view 
to extend his acquaintance with the Sumatrans, their customs, 
religions, and character, as well as to gratify his enthusiasm 
as a naturalist. The route which he attempted was considered 
impracticable ; but he succeeded in penetrating the island, cross- 
ing the mountains, and reaching Palembang on the opposite coast. 
He also penetrated northward, cultivating the acquaintance of the 
natives wherever he went, and acquiring an immense store of new 
and valuable information. The description he has given of these 
journeys imparts a striking* idea of his adventurous spirit and love 
of scientific pursuit. Ascending mountains, crossing rivers, and 
penetrating forests, the party were often startled by the approach 
of elephants and other unwelcome visitors. On one occasion, in 
passing through a forest, they were much annoyed with leeches, 
which got into their boots and covered their legs with blood. 
The most important botanic discovery made throughout the 
journey was that of the Hqfflesia, perhaps the largest and 
most magnificent flower in the world. It measured across, 
from the extremity of the petals, rather more than a yard ; the 
nectarium was ni^e inches wide, and as deep, and was estimated 
to contain a gallofi and a half of water ; the weight of the whole 
was fifteen pounds. In alluding to this magnificent plant, Sir 
Stamford observes in a letter to a friend in England, "There 



is notliing' more striking in the Malayan forests than the gran- 
deur of the vegetation. The magnitude of the flowers, creepers, 
and trees, contrasts strangely with the stunted, and, I had almost 
said, pigmy vegetation of England. Compared with our fruit 
trees, your largest oak is a mere dwarf. Here we have creepers 
and vines entwining larger trees, and hanging suspended for 
more than a hundred feet, in g'irth not less than a man's body, 
and many much thicker ; the trees seldom under 100, and gene- 
rally 160 to 200 feet in height." 

In most of his excursions, Sir Stamford was accompanied by 
Lady Raffles, who entered warmly into his pursuits, and delighted 
in exploring the romantic coasts of the Spice Islands. ^' It is 
impossible," observes this accomplished lady in one of her letters, 
" to conceive an idea of the pleasure of sailing through this beau- 
tiful and unparalleled Archipelago, in which every attraction of 
nature is combined. The smoothness of the sea, the lig'htness of 
the atmosphere, the constant succession of the most picturesque 
lake scenery ; islands of every shape and size clustered tog-ether ; 
mountains of the most fanciful forms crowned with verdure to 
their summit; rich and luxuriant vegetation extending to the 
very edge of the water ; little native boats with only one person 
in them, continually darting' out from the deep shade which con- 
-cealed them, looking like so many cockle-shells wafted about by 
the wind. Altogether it is a scene of enchantment deserving a 
poet's pen to describe its beauties." 

Returning from these excursions, Sir Stamford occupied his 
time in the improvement of Bencoolen, the consolidation of his 
government, and the pursuit of science ; the latter object being* 
aided by a regular establishment of naturalists and draughtsmen. 
Most unfortunately, here, as elsewhere, he was exposed to much 
annoyance from the Dutch, who lost no opportunity of thwart- 
ing his policy. " Prepared as I was," he writes, " for the 
jealousy a